


Temporary Mate

by Lomonaaeren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Forced Bonding, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Veela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 87,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: Escorting Malfoy on a dangerous mission in another dimension to speak to French Veela, Harry and his fellow Aurors are attacked and left for dead. Harry and Malfoy are the only survivors, and wounds the attackers inflicted have released Malfoy’s Veela heritage. Now he’s probably going to die unless Harry can successfully bind himself to Malfoy as a temporary mate—and they still have to survive the trek to reach the Veela stronghold.





	1. The Suddenness of Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be updated whenever I finish a chapter. It should be anywhere from ten to twenty chapters long.
> 
> Warnings: Angst, violence, creature fic (Draco is a Veela), action/adventure, Auror fic, minor character death

****Harry reeled back as a bolt of red lightning almost struck him, and then blasted off a nonverbal Burning Storm Curse. The thing he was fighting, which resembled a hunched human woman with huge black wings and greasy talons, screeched as the fiery rain fell on her, and soared away, tearing at her face and back.

Harry turned grimly around, to see the rest of the creatures hovering a “safe” distance away from him and the battlefield, where five other Aurors had already died, their blood soaking into the blue and red earth. The other poor blokes hadn’t stood a chance. The minute the creatures had begun to scream, they’d frozen in place and stared with wide eyes, not even resisting as talons slashed their throats or yanked out their hearts.

Which told Harry what these creatures were, although it was actually Muggle mythology and not wizarding knowledge that let him recognize them.

 _Harpies_.

Harry hadn’t felt compelled to stand there and let them kill him. Probably for the same reason he could resist the Imperius Curse.

The harpies were swirling around the edges of the battlefield now, pointing at Harry with long, sharply-nailed fingers and whisper-hissing something to each other. Harry backed up slowly, feeling with his foot for a step before he did so. He was terribly afraid that he might be the only one left alive.

Then he stepped on a piece of cloth that groaned.

Harry swiftly knelt down with his hand on the shoulder of the other bloke, eyes on the harpies. They weren’t coming closer, but they had started to writhe and clap their hands in glee, which was hardly reassuring.

Harry turned his head the slightest bit, enough to catch a glimpse of pale hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Malfoy?” he breathed.

An iron-taloned hand closed on his wrist.

 _That’s not Malfoy, that’s a harpy with white feathers!_ Harry thought, and promptly turned his wand on the figure as the harpies’ giggles grew louder. But at the same time, he _had_ to look because he couldn’t see well enough to fire a spell, and he realized it was Malfoy lying there, his expensive robes shredded and strips of flesh clinging around a huge wound in his chest.

 _Don’t vomit into the wound,_ Harry chanted to himself, and bent over Malfoy as he cast another spell at the harpies to make them hold their ground. “What happened?” he whispered, not really expecting an answer.

To his amazement, Malfoy gave one, though his voice was as harsh and clanging as the harpies’. “They—ripped me open. To survive, I had to—pull on other parts of my magic core. I have distant Veela heritage. I’m Veela now. I can survive—physically. But mentally—need a mate.”

His voice, his reasoning, sounded human, but those talons were still pulling Harry closer. Harry stared into his face and forced calm onto himself. “Are you going to eat me?”

“Need—a _mate_.”

Harry shivered and let the shivering pass through him like the claws must have passed through Malfoy. Then he nodded. “All right. Tell me what I have to do.” The only Veela bonding he’d heard about in even vague detail was Bill’s with Fleur, and that had been a private ceremony separate from the wedding. Harry had no idea what they’d actually done other than meet with her family in France for a few days.

A smile glided across Malfoy’s lips, and he tugged Harry closer. “Fearless—for your own good.”

Harry clamped his teeth on his tongue against the impulse to say that there was a word missing in there somewhere, and said, “Is it a spell?”

“In circumstances like this—yes.” Malfoy’s voice seemed to have got stronger even though his wound looked no better. He shot a glance at the hovering harpies. Harry did, too. They seemed to be coming no closer. Perhaps they were confused because Malfoy hadn’t eaten him yet. “It’s a temporary—bond. Just long enough until we can reach the Veela we came to see. They can give me a real one.”

“All right,” Harry said. From the lack of other voices and movement, he was starting to think he and Malfoy really were the only ones that had survived the harpies’ attack. That meant he had to do anything he could to keep Malfoy alive. He knelt, as much as he could with Malfoy holding him, on the alien, gritty blue soil underneath them. “Tell me the incantation of the spell.”

Malfoy remained silent, frowning, searching Harry’s eyes. Harry tapped the wand on his abdomen in impatience. He assumed the spell would at least partially heal Malfoy’s injury, or he would have said something about it before now.

“You have to really mean it,” Malfoy whispered.

“I do really mean it,” Harry said, and did his best to soften his expression when he saw the way Malfoy continued to look at him. “I mean it enough to keep you alive. If you mean, have I fallen in love with you? N—”

This time, the other taloned hand slammed across his mouth, the edges of Malfoy’s claws cutting his lips. Harry winced and watched a small trickle of blood move down his cheek to fall onto the claws.

“Don’t say it, _don’t say it_.” Malfoy’s voice was more a deep, hoarse screech than words. “Don’t do anything the Veela might think of as rejection!”

“All right,” Harry said, while through his mind there flashed a vision, absurdly, of him rejecting Malfoy’s hand on their first train ride. He eased a smile onto his lips and knelt closer, as close as he could get without touching Malfoy’s wound. “I mean it. I want to keep you alive. I want to make sure we reach our destination safely. I want you to have what everyone should have, shelter and food and love.”

Malfoy sighed out like a snake complaining about its tail being hurt, and then draped a hand around Harry’s neck and lifted his lips.

Harry bent and kissed him. He had no objection to kissing men, but this _was_ different in that most men didn’t try to probe between his lips with their tongue like a woodpecker hunting grubs, or writhe around under him and stain his shirt with blood in the meantime.

At least Malfoy didn’t seem to be getting worse, for all the smears on Harry’s Auror robes. Harry pulled back, aware of the harpies that had started to hover nearer to them, and asked with a little gasp, “All right?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said, his eyes clearing, although his hands didn’t let go of Harry’s wrist or neck. “Listen to me, and repeat the syllables carefully. There’s no second chance if you mess this up, not with the way that the spell is going to pull on my magic.”

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes—it was probably good practice—and poised his wand. Malfoy had it aiming at his chest, more or less in between his wound and his heart.

“ _Ignis, aqua, terra, sol_ ,” said Malfoy, his lips ending in a silent gasp on the last word. A bubble of blood popped past them.

“ _Ignis, aqua, terra, sol_ ,” Harry said, his eyes not moving from Malfoy’s. A faint glow began to spiral around his wand, first red, then blue, then brown, then gold.

Harry could recognize the power of elemental magic, even though he had only studied it and never used it. As long as it would save Malfoy, he didn’t really care what it looked like or what else it did.

“ _Amor, odium, semper,_ ” Malfoy said. His body arched in silent pain, and Harry would have tried to ease back so that he wasn’t coming so close to actually crushing the injury, but Malfoy’s hands were doing a good job of holding him motionless.

“ _Amor, odium, semper_.”

The lights flashing around Harry’s wand had turned all sorts of colors by now, brilliant orange and heart-stopping purple included among them. Harry tried not to watch them, afraid they would get him dizzy or confused. He only looked into Malfoy’s eyes, and Malfoy managed to smile and nod a little as if that was exactly the right course to take.

“Now, speak your name and mine,” Malfoy whispered. “In that order. Then end the sentence with _coniungo_.”

Harry swallowed back any protests he might have wanted to make. This wasn’t walking into the Forbidden Forest. This wasn’t binding himself for life. It was doing what he had to do to make sure they both got to the Veela and completed the mission.

“Harry Potter,” he said. Malfoy’s eyes never wavered from his face. “Draco Malfoy.” The lights around his wand sizzle so hard that Harry felt them more than he did Malfoy’s hand digging into the back of his neck. “ _Coniungo_.”

The silent explosion of power between them lifted Malfoy off the ground. Harry gasped and reached towards him, concerned for his wound, but he didn’t touch him. There was so much white and blue slanting past them that Harry was drifting in the middle of it, not burned, borne, but unable to feel anything else.

Then he became aware that he was tumbling back towards the earth. Harry tried to go as limp as he could, tried to twist so that he would less chance of breaking a bone or his wand—

Hands came around him and caught him millimeters from slamming into the red grass and blue, gleaming twists of soil.

Harry looked up. Malfoy was hovering in the air, huge white-silver wings cutting it. Harry could hear the hiss of it parting around those feathers, in fact.

But it was hard to notice much else. Malfoy’s gaze was locked on his face, and Harry couldn’t look beyond it. Malfoy’s eyes had an actual, blazing flame behind them, as if they had become transparent windows onto a wasteland of silver fire.

“You’re my mate,” Malfoy said, in a voice deeper than it had been before. His healed chest vibrated against Harry’s and distracted him in all sorts of ways that he _shouldn’t_ be distracted in the middle of an Auror mission.

Harry took a deep breath, reclaimed some of the courage that seemed to have deserted him in the last few seconds, and said, “Yes.”

*

Draco had never felt so _released_.

Bonds constraining him—human body, human desires—had simply dissolved. He had long known that he had the opportunity to become a Veela if he wanted to, but it had never seemed worth the risk. Why would he banish his human body when it meant he would have to have a mate and wings it was hard to hide?

Hovering in mid-air and embracing Harry, Draco thought such old fears foolish and weak.

He bent down and kissed Harry once, lingeringly, just enough that Harry gasped and squirmed against him. Then Draco flew downwards and put Harry tenderly on the ground, in between the bodies. He avoided the blood.

These men had not been as important as Harry. But they had died fighting beside him, and their deaths had hurt him. That meant Draco had to avenge them.

He turned to face the harpies.

They had drawn back and were hovering as if they were afraid of him, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected. Draco met their eyes and smiled.

A few peeled off from the back of the flock and flew away. The rest descended upon him, their claws spread and their screeches rising into the air as if they thought they could make Draco back off because of the sheer volume of noise.

Draco placed his palms together and bowed his head a little. They would probably interpret the gesture as one of fear—well, not all of them, he amended in his head as a few others flew away. They must have faced Veela before.

He was fighting for his _mate_.

The words exploded out of his mouth as a vicious song, like the noise of a scythe ripping through the air. At the same moment, Draco opened his hands and let the fireball follow them.

Two of the harpies died immediately, consumed by the sheer heat of the flames. Only a few scraps of cloth and drifting feathers remained. A few others flew out of range with a shriek, and kept on flying. But two spiraled down with only singed wings, and landed on the ground near Harry.

Draco set his wings and dived.

He didn’t think about it. He only knew his mate was in danger and he had to defend him. It was as simple as that.

His claws cleaved through one harpy’s neck, and he tossed her head at her companion, distracting her just as she started to line up to battle Harry. Harry promptly caught her with a curse and bound her on the soil.

Draco landed beside her and stomped down with one foot, staving in her ribs and making her shriek turn into a bubble of blood and soundless breath. Then he cut her head off, too, and tossed it to rest next to the other.

When he looked up, his mate was staring at him with wide eyes. Draco cocked his head and made a soft, clucking, scolding noise. “You have no reason to do that. I was only protecting you.”

“You—killed them.”

“You did the same thing with others,” Draco said, and gestured to the motionless harpy bodies on the ground that Harry had dueled before his transformation came. He frowned a little at the thought. He didn’t like Harry having to do that.

Well, he wouldn’t have to do it anymore, not now that Draco was here. Draco turned back to Harry with a satisfied nod, in time to find him sliding his wand back into his sleeve and sighing. “Not that violently.”

“If the blood bothers you, then I can do it less violently next time.” The flames were probably his most potent weapon, and ought to be deft and quick enough to satisfy Harry. Draco lowered his wings and his head at the same time. “Now come here.”

Harry looked as if he would speak up, but then he simply walked over to Draco and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Draco twisted his head to catch him on the lips, sighing as the torrent of power flooded him. He was transparent, he thought, and burning from the inside out with the flame that was Harry.

He started to press Harry gently to the ground. There were things he had neglected, the proper introduction of a Veela to his mate, and he was willing to make up for them now.

Harry gasped, then said, “Not—here. I don’t want to—do anything in blood and gore.” He looked at the Aurors’ bodies, and his face twisted. “What are we going to do with them?”

Draco reached down to dig his claws into the blue soil. The red didn’t always obey a Veela, but the blue was the color of their eyes, the color of the heavens they flew through, sometimes the color of their wings. It promptly rolled up, chilled, and grabbed the Aurors’ bodies, burying them like twisting ropes.

“That will keep the bodies safe?” Harry was watching the mounds of shining earth, and Draco gently reached out and tipped his face back until Harry was looking at him. He’d done enough of sharing his mate with others.

“Yes. It will preserve them perfectly. When we reach the Veela enclave, then we can talk to them about retrieving the bodies and returning them to the human world.”

Harry nodded. “So we can take them with us when we go.”

Draco blinked. It felt as if his eyes took longer to move than usual. At least Harry was watching them with the right kind of fascination. “So the Aurors can come and collect them. You don’t think we’ll be returning to the human world, do you?”

Harry didn’t respond for a second. Then he said carefully, “You said that when we reach the Veela, they’ll be able to unbind us and give you a permanent mate. So even if you decide to stay here, I’ll go back myself.”

“I said that? It’s true enough, but I must have been mad. I can’t imagine wanting any other mate than you.”

Harry moved a step closer to him, reached out, and gently cupped Draco’s cheek. Silent, afraid of shaking the fragile bond between them, Draco reached out with one wing to slide a tip down Harry’s cheek.

“We can’t fly all the way, you know.” Harry’s voice was a whisper. “You’ll get tired. Do you think you can put your wings away and we’ll walk for a little while? I don’t want to stay here even if the blood and guts are mostly gone.”

Draco would have agreed to a lot worse requests at that point. He found himself nodding agreeably and pulling in his wings. For a moment they dangled behind his back down to his boots; then he concentrated, and he felt them turn into cool mist and dissolve into his back. They would look like nothing more than the tattoos of silver wings to whoever looked at them.

And the world changed.

*

Harry sighed a little as he watched Malfoy sink to his knees. He had heard once that a Veela’s wings were a big part of their mindset, and if they put them away, then they would stop being so bird-like and become human.

Since Malfoy was a Veela forced into the transformation, it made sense that he would see things in a more human way once his wings were tucked away.

“What have I done?” Malfoy hissed.

“What you needed to to survive.” Harry didn’t want to deal with a possessive Veela who wouldn’t let him do anything on his own, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t let Malfoy blame himself. He sat down next to Malfoy and clasped his hand. Even in this form, Malfoy instinctively clutched his fingers. “We’ll get there, Malfoy. We’ll find the Veela and give them your message and get them to give you a mate who will be happy to stay with you for always.” He actually didn’t know what the message Malfoy was supposed to tell the Veela was. That had been confidential. The Aurors were there to protect him, not try to discover secrets.

Malfoy’s head jerked up, his silver hair stinging along his ears. “You don’t want to stay with me for always?”

Harry remembered the warning Malfoy had given him about not doing anything that could be interpreted as rejecting the Veela. “I want to make sure that you have a good mate. A worthy one. If that means stepping aside when we find the enclave, that’s what I’ll do.”

Malfoy watched him as suspiciously as a wolf, but in the end he nodded and bent down to kiss Harry’s knuckles. Then he sighed and stood. “We need to aim in that direction.” He nodded to a distant part of the glowing horizon. Since the glow extended in a circle of the same brightness all around them, Harry didn’t know if he was right, but he had to trust Malfoy sometime.

“All right.”

“You’ve been very agreeable about all this.”

“I told you. We’ll do what we can. And I want to survive. I know you want to, too.” Harry hesitated for a second. “I couldn’t save the others. I want to make sure at least _one_ of the people I was supposed to be helping reaches the end of this journey.”

Malfoy snorted and began to walk past one of the blue mounds that contained the bodies. “You think you were there to protect the other Aurors, Potter?”

Harry did. He knew he was the best of them, and he didn’t know the rest of them well, and now they were _dead._

Malfoy got a few steps ahead. Harry lingered to look at the blue mounds.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “Rest well.”

“Potter!”

The ground was dimming, the blue turning purple, the red orange, which was the substitute for nighttime in this dimension. Harry turned and hurried after Malfoy.


	2. The Blue Night

The land all around them had faded to a glimmering twist of blue among red so dusky that it looked brown, and the light had finally faded from the horizon. Draco thought it was like being inside a bowl capped by another bowl.

Potter was making camp beside him.

Draco watched him between squinted eyelids while he conjured his own fireballs and sent them floating into a circle around them. He was responsible for the defensive perimeter. Potter had said he would set up wards, make the fire, and prepare the food. When Draco had asked why he was only using fireballs instead of doing other things, Potter had given him a worried smile.

“You went through a huge transformation this afternoon. I don’t want to wear you down unnecessarily.”

He was _good_. And Draco wasn’t just looking at the way his muscles rippled in his back as he knelt by the newborn fire, casting spells so that it wouldn’t go out.

_He’s honorable. Self-sacrificing. How many people would agree to be bound as a temporary mate to a Veela, even if they didn’t have someone waiting at home right that moment? He has to know that either he risks falling in love and being hurt when the bond ends, or doing things he doesn’t want to do._

“You okay?”

Potter was looking back at him. Draco shook some of the contemplation away and said, “Just wondering about your strange eagerness to bind yourself to me. And why you didn’t ask me to build the fire.”

Potter smiled at him, a flash of white teeth as strong as his muscles as he twisted to Summon some food from one of the bags. “I know more about Veela than you realize. I know your fire’s meant for defense. It would see our food as a threat and try to char it.”

“And you’re avoiding the main question.” Draco realized his voice had descended to a sharp purr, and winced a little, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the way Potter stretched, or turned back, or set a small metal pot to float above the fire.

Potter faced him again and nodded. “All right. The truth is, I don’t find kissing a man disgusting.” He paused, but Draco had heard rumors some time ago of Potter’s liking for both genders, and only waited. “I haven’t done it in a long time, and I don’t have anyone at home who’ll be hurt by it, and you need it to survive. That’s the big one.”

“But you could be hurt. Temporary mates often are, the times this has happened in the past, when the time came to sever the bond.”

“So?”

Potter sounded so baffled…Draco paused and brightened the fireballs glowing around the edges of the clearing with a flick of his fingers. The odd illumination shining from the ground made it hard to see Potter’s face when it was the only light. “You don’t care about being hurt?”

“I accept that it happens. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Why would I be an Auror otherwise?”

Draco had never before encountered a mindset quite that foreign to him, but there was hardly any point in harassing Potter about it. Besides, he could feel a silver quiver growing inside him, coming closer and closer to the surface. He leaned forwards.

Potter, who was tapping his wand on the hovering pot and muttering spells Draco had never heard before, didn’t notice him at first. Then he stiffened as Draco’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Relax,” Draco said, near his ear. He had the longing to take Potter’s earlobe between his teeth, but it wouldn’t help them. “If you push me away too much, then the Veela might see that as its mate rejecting it.”

“It?” Potter leaned back from the pot, but still kept his wand pointing at it, and cast one last spell. The pot started to make bubbling noises. “Not he?”

Draco paused. He hadn’t thought about that. When he had _been_ the Veela, calling Potter Harry and wanting to bear him down to the ground so that he could pleasure him, he hadn’t needed pronouns for it, and now that he was back in his right mind, he felt entirely separate from it. “It,” he said firmly, and turned Potter’s face around. His lips were full and firm. Draco kissed him.

Potter sighed underneath him and opened his mouth. Draco could feel his heart promptly responding, so fast that it made a humming ache under his breastbone. He hooked his fingers into Potter’s hair and yanked him back and down, so that his face was more directly beneath Draco’s.

For a moment, Potter scrabbled, his hands trying to find some hold on Draco’s robes or the ground. Draco didn’t let him. He bore him down, kneeling beside him but over him, and held him in place, and kissed.

The Veela inside him was purring now, filling his head with a half-drunken haze. Draco could feel himself hardening, slowly, like a luxury. He reached out, and his hands had claws. He knew he could shred open Harry’s Auror robes, and trace the curve of his muscles, and make his skin burn with such sweet fire that he would give himself to Draco without hesitating.

Harry’s eyes opened and looked at him gently in the firelight. Draco had never realized human eyes could have that color. He leaned over to kiss him on his eyelids, but Harry shook his head a little and said, “Our dinner is going to burn.”

Draco paused. Various hungers reared and clashed in him, and then he let Harry sit up. But he turned Harry so that his back was to Draco’s chest, and he stole another kiss as Harry leaned over and stirred the fragments of fish and rice and something else that made up their meal.

He couldn’t wait until it was over.

*

By the time they had finished eating—Malfoy feeding Harry half the food by hand—Harry had made his decision. He knew he had to tread carefully so that he wouldn’t risk angering the Veela.

But his thoughts weren’t only of the Veela. They were also of _Malfoy_ , who had done this so he could survive, and who might be mortified when he found out how far the Veela was willing to go.

When Harry had swallowed the last piece of cod and Malfoy had turned his face around again, Harry touched his chin to hold his face motionless. “How long do you think the journey to the Veela enclave is going to take?” he asked.

“I’ve never been here before. Why should I know? I think we have more important things to do than talk about it.”

Gently, Harry folded his fingers against Malfoy’s lips when he once again tried to start a kiss. “But I know Veela can feel the distance from others of their kind.”

Malfoy grinned and canted his hips forwards. Harry gasped as Malfoy’s erection rubbed against his thigh. “Right now, there’s only one kind of distance I’m interested in sensing. Or doing something about.”

God, it was so _tempting._ Those kisses earlier had made him burn. And Harry knew that Veela made excellent lovers. He’d overheard a few conversations between Bill and Fleur—without meaning to—that made him certain of that.

Damn his morals, anyway.

But even as Malfoy dragged at him with soft hands that made him shudder, Harry kept his head. “Come on. How far?”

Malfoy sighed and lifted his head, mouth twisting as if Harry was making him recite a dull list of Potions ingredients. “As far as it would take me to fly in four days. That way.” He gestured with a wing—Harry honestly hadn’t heard them sprout from his back—in the direction they had been walking.

Harry nodded. He had a magical compass from the Auror Department, and he knew the direction they should head. But without Malfoy, he would have had no idea how long it would take.

_Probably longer than four days walking, anyway._

Malfoy interrupted his thoughts as he slid forwards, his chest to Harry’s chest, his fingers working with glinting tips against the cloth in a way that made it obvious he was thinking about ripping it apart. “Do you need any other information right now? Or can I fuck you?”

“One thing,” Harry gasped, shivering and swelling as those words went through him. _God,_ he’d missed being fucked. He really wanted to give in and let Malfoy have his way.

But. There was still a man who might be humiliated here.

“Done,” Malfoy mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. His teeth opened and scraped, needle-shaped, across Harry’s muscles. But even though Harry had been bitten by vampires and had lots of reasons to be nervous about having something like that at his throat, he didn’t have any impulse to draw back.

Only to drive himself forwards.

Harry grabbed hold of his own impulses and said, “There’s something you should know.”

“Is this the one thing you were talking about?” Malfoy’s voice was thick. His tongue kept lapping the side of Harry’s neck, and that muffled his words, too. Harry was only certain of what they were because Malfoy’s mouth was so close to his ear. “I want you to stop talking, Harry. I want you to lie back and let me take you.”

 _Merlin, yes._ But Harry restrained himself, and only said, in a calm, polite voice, “Our fire will burn out.”

Malfoy swung his legs to straddle Harry’s waist. “I don’t care.”

Harry stared up into his eyes and saw that was true. Malfoy’s claws were flexing. He wanted to shred Harry’s robe and then set to work with his teeth and tongue and cock on Harry’s body. And again came the temptation to let him, to lie back and surrender, because there was nothing Harry wanted more.

_Except to spare him._

Harry sighed and cast a spell that Aurors used most of the time to free comrades whose minds were fogged by the Imperius Curse or something similar. “ _Mens clara._ ”

Malfoy shuddered, and his hands flew up to hold his temples. Harry watched him in worry, only now wondering if he should have used the spell on a Veela. There was no restriction on using the spell on non-human magical creatures that he’d ever heard of, but on the other hand, that wasn’t the sort of information usually found in casual class descriptions.

Malfoy stood up and strode away, turning his back. Harry got up and checked on the fire. It was low, but he coaxed a little more kindling into it, and it blazed away. He kept only enough of an eye to Malfoy to make sure that he stayed inside the protective circle of fireballs. He knew he wouldn’t want Harry looking at him right now.

“Fuck,” Malfoy finally whispered.

“I read once that transformation is like a drug,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on the fire. “And that was just an Animagus transformation I read about. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be forced into it to try and survive, and then know that you have to follow those instincts.”

Malfoy dropped to the ground, trembling. His wings had once again retracted through the rents in his robes to become silver tattoos on his back. Harry forced his eyes away from them. If he went on feeling the temptation to touch them, sooner or later he _would_.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

“The transformation. Nothing else. If you were in your right mind—the way you are right now—you would want nothing to do with me. It’s all right, Malfoy,” Harry added, when Malfoy sat there with his head drooping and didn’t turn around. “I promise, it’s all right. You’re doing what you have to.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Potter. Amazing, I know.”

“It’s all right,” was all Harry could think to say, and he went on feeding the fire. Malfoy finally stirred and came over to sit next to him, hands wrapped around his ankles and head still bowed. Harry cast a Warming Charm on him. He jumped.

“Why did you think I needed one?”

“Because you haven’t bothered repairing those tears in your robes where your wings came out.”

“Not much point in repairing them when you know they’re only going to come bursting out again,” Malfoy muttered. He shoved his hair out of his eyes and spent a moment staring down at his hands again. “Listen. This would be easier if you weren’t so nice.”

“You want me to threaten you and hit you with a spoon when you try to kiss me?”

“Don’t be silly. Where would you get a spoon?”

Harry laughed. Malfoy gave him a half-smile, but almost immediately turned his head away. “I mean it,” he muttered. “Most temporary mates give in with a bad grace, you know. They don’t want to be there any more than the Veela wants to be associating with them instead of its real mate, and they lie back with their lips closed and their heads turned away.”

“Really?” Harry blinked. Maybe the stories he’d heard about Veela being irresistible lovers were exaggerations. “Huh. Your kisses make me burn.”

Malfoy moaned a little and buried his head in his hands. “If you could stop _saying_ things like that, this would be easier!”

“Sorry.” Harry paused. “But you also said that you didn’t want me to do anything that would convince the Veela I was rejecting it.”

“I know. It’s a delicate line to walk.” Malfoy worked his hands into place around his knees again. “I think it would be best if we—didn’t talk candidly about things like how my kisses make you feel, and you yield with a good grace when you need to. Let me defend you sometimes and let me feed you. If I can think of it as courting you, the Veela is less likely to think of sex.”

“Because sex comes at the end of the courtship,” Harry said, nodding. He laughed a little when Malfoy stared at him. “One of Ron’s brothers married Fleur Delacour, you prat. I don’t know as much as you do, but I know some.”

“Okay. That’s probably—well, it might be one of the reasons that I find you more tempting than I’d like.” Malfoy frowned a little. “Can you use that spell on me again if you need to? What is it?”

“The Mind-Clearing Charm? Sure. It brings someone’s own mind back if the thing that clouds it isn’t very powerful. Won’t stop the Imperius Curse cast by a really determined wizard, but most of the people who use it aren’t that determined.”

“All right. We’ll go from there.” Malfoy abruptly turned away and curled up on the faintly shining ground. “Good night, Potter.”

Harry blinked at him, but he supposed they were fed and guarded and there was no point in prolonging the conversation. “Good night, Malfoy.” He cast a Warming Charm on himself, too, and then pulled out the blankets he would sleep on. Now that Malfoy was a fully-transformed Veela, he probably drew more strength from being in contact with the odd ground.

He fell asleep wondering if he knew household spells well enough to make the tears in Malfoy’s robes around his wings less ragged.  
*

It was no use.

Draco opened his eyes and growled faintly, then forced himself to his feet from what _should_ have been a restful position and walked over to stared down at Potter.

He was breathing peacefully, wrapped in blankets and probably a Cushioning Charm, with his wand near at hand. His face wasn’t innocent the way it probably would have been before the war, or before Auror training, but still profoundly attractive. He slept easily.

Draco could not.

He settled down next to Potter, hoping that would ease the longing. When it didn’t, he sighed, tugged on some of the blankets until they sprawled out from beneath Potter, and lay down on them, curling up behind Potter’s body and holding him. The longing grew warm and sweet at once, and Draco found himself purring without being aware that he was going to.

“What—Malfoy?”

“It’s all right. The Veela just needed to hold you. Go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Potter sounded a little doubtful, but at least his ability to sleep with Draco holding him was in no doubt. His breathing had evened out within minutes. Of course, he was probably also tired from the battle and seeing Aurors he’d worked with die.

Draco closed his eyes and laid his nose against the back of Potter’s neck. The Warming Charm Potter had cast on him was gone, but he didn’t think that would be a problem in the cocoon of his mate’s radiant body heat.

Potter cared for Draco’s dignity. He cared that he was warm. He worried about his safety. He wanted to help him resist the Veela and walk a thin line no matter how dangerous or tempting it proved for him. Not because he and Draco had become friends since the war, but simply because Draco was alive and there and Potter _cared_ about that.

He would be frighteningly easy to bond with.

Draco tightened his arms around Potter. He knew the stories of temporary mates, of the Veela who had tried to make them permanent. None of them had ever worked out. The spell was a measure to save a new Veela’s life, no more. They were only a few days away from the enclave. He would hold out.

He had to. Not only because it would be devastating to forge a bond that he knew could never be returned.

For Potter’s sake.

_I can care, too._

He fell asleep to the sound of Potter’s breathing.


	3. Creatures With Claws

 

There was rolling, shrieking laughter in the distance. Or it _sounded_ as if it might have been the distance. Now it was almost on top of them, bouncing around inside Harry’s head, making him shudder and writhe—

And then it was there. It was _real_. Close enough to be inside the line of Malfoy’s warding fireballs.

Harry ripped himself free of Malfoy’s arms, already snatching up his wand. There was a dim shape in front of him that extended long arms, with claws gleaming on the edges of its hands. Harry couldn’t see what it was in the low light.

He didn’t have to. He aimed his wand straight at the middle of it and cast a curse that most Aurors had practiced and none of them were supposed to know. “ _Commisceo_!”

The creature screamed as a puff of orange light surrounded it, brighter and more violent than the fire Malfoy had cast from his hands at the harpies. There was a long moment when Harry’s eyes refused to follow the movement of drifting clots of body. That was a self-protection method, really, he had always thought. He fell back and put a hand up in front of his eyes as he watched the creature’s top half switch with its lower half.

That instantly killed it, of course. The parts slumped to the ground, and Harry spun, watching for anything else.

The next one came in low, and nearly snatched his ankle. Harry leaped, swearing, and came down kicking it in the ribcage, or where its ribcage would have been if it hadn’t been made of, seemingly, dark feathers and meat. It screamed like a dying eagle and floated into the air like the first one.

Harry cast an overpowered _Lumos_ , and the campsite lit up like the Ministry at Christmas. The creature howled again. Harry stared at it.

It _was_ made of dark meat, but the things he had thought were feathers were glittering hooks that had sprouted all over its body. The long claws snatched at him as he stood there, and Harry ducked again, then nearly leaped up into the embrace of its claws when he felt someone grab his leg from behind.

Malfoy’s voice said, “It’s me, you wanker. What is it?”

“I don’t know.” The thing _almost_ looked like a defeathered Veela; it was that size, and vaguely humanoid. But the curved, stabbing beak clamped and shut on air without producing any words, and the wildly bobbing head had no recognizable eyes.

The claws came at him again. Harry cast a Shield Dome behind him—a modified charm that would cover Malfoy with a glittering dome of heavy light—and twisted away, dropping to the level where he could cast a curse at the thing’s feet. They were as heavy as the claws, taloned, deadly. Harry wondered why the thing hadn’t used them to hit him first, but then again, the arms were longer. “ _Frangitur_!”

The thing’s feet imploded, the wave of magic hitting harder than any Blasting Curse. The shriek that followed was weak and helpless. The wings dangled—although now that Harry looked at it, it was _levitating_ more than it was flying—and it tried to tuck the bloody, useless stumps back under its body.

Harry shot up and repeated the curse at its neck. It blew apart in chunks to join the others. Harry half-leaped in a circle, scanning for others.

Nothing. Only the light of the warding fireballs glowing oddly low and dim. Harry frowned. He would have figure out why those creatures had been able to bypass the damn things.

A sharp knocking whipped his head and wand around, but it was only Malfoy, banging against the Shield Dome over him and giving Harry a glare of doom. Harry snorted weakly in response and canceled the spell with a wave of his wand.

Malfoy straightened his clothes. Then he stood up and walked over to Harry, pulling his wand hand down. Harry raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aiming at you. Just standing ready in case—”

“ _I_ should have been the one defending _you_.”

The high, shrill edge to his voice warned Harry a second before the wings popped out again and Malfoy wrapped them around him. Harry sighed and leaned into the shimmering warmth. It provided a kind of heat even their fire didn’t.

“I woke up first,” he said softly. “There’s no shame in having your mate defend you if he’s capable. Yesterday I was stunned from the spell and your transformation. It doesn’t mean I _couldn’t_ have dealt with the harpies.”

“You should have let me do it.”

“That would have meant waking you up and ducking around trying to avoid the claws while you _woke_ up, though.”

The wings tightened on his shoulders, a soft firm pressure very different from hands, and Malfoy leaned forwards and stared into his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that I _should not_ defend you? Are you rejecting me?”

Listening to his voice was like looking at blank stone; Harry couldn’t tell anything from it. He stared back and said, “No. But you know I was sent along on this Auror mission to defend you, _too_. I was actually supposed to do it along with other Aurors. They aren’t me. They aren’t here. I have to do whatever I can to make sure you reach the Veela enclave alive and deliver your message.”

Malfoy went on staring. Then he seemed to calm a little, at least enough to shift the hold of his wings on Harry’s shoulders, and murmured, “You haven’t asked me what the message is.”

“I know you can’t tell me.”

“But that was before we became mates. Mates share _everything_. You could ask, and I would gladly tell you.”

Harry shook his head, a faint smile tugging hard at his lips even though he knew technically it shouldn’t. “I don’t want to put you in a compromising position like that. I’m happy waiting until we get there. I’ll probably be present to hear the message, anyway, unless it turns out it’s so secret the enclave’s leaders don’t want me there.”

“You could ask.” Malfoy’s voice had become a croon that, soft as it was, seemed strangely to deafen Harry, to get rid of any sounds from beyond the circle of his wings. “You could _ask_.”

Harry swallowed and straightened up to hold Malfoy’s eyes. “I could.”

“Yes?” Malfoy’s wings were trembling, and a soft silver flame was dancing on them. The same light was in his eyes, illuminating nothing more than his smile did.

“I won’t.”

Malfoy abruptly snarled at him, a deep, hoarse, coughing noise that made Harry leap in surprise; it sounded more like a tiger than a bird. But he couldn’t leap very far, since he was caught inside the circle of the wings. He had to stand there while Malfoy grew a beak and snapped it near his face.

Harry just raised one eyebrow. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? I want you to stay alive, Malfoy. But I also want you to complete your mission. I’m trying to do my duty—”

“I know that, and _fuck_ your duty!” Malfoy let go of his shoulders and spun away, wings flapping, but he didn’t take off. He was stalking around the circle of the fireballs instead, head tilted back so he glared at Harry over his shoulder. It was dim enough that Harry had trouble seeing if he still wore his beak or not. “I don’t care about it. I don’t care about _anything at all_ except making you happy, and you tell me it’s not enough.”

Harry took a deep breath and answered carefully. This was probably one of those edge moments Malfoy had told him about, where the Veela would demand things that Harry couldn’t really grant. “I’m curious about the message. But hearing what it is wouldn’t make me happy. It would just satisfy my curiosity. Those are different things.”

Malfoy paused in mid-step, his wings fanning out again until Harry could count all the primary feathers even by the weird mixture of light from the fire and the ground. Then he turned about and said, “Tell me what would make you happy. Now.”

“Malf—”

“You saved my life _again_. Tell me.” Malfoy’s foot scraped the ground like the talon of a raptor.

Harry decided it was serious. The problem was, he didn’t have an answer.

*

 _Can he not_ understand?

Draco’s restlessness was searing up his throat, making him gulp and hold back bladed words. Too many things were happening, too quickly, and none of them would actually make sense or stop happening.

First, Harry had saved his life. That was a reversal of the way these things should go and horribly distasteful to Draco.

Second, Harry stood there and talked about duty and honor without naming the words half the time, and said Draco had to fulfill his mission, as if that was _more important_ than completing the bond. Draco didn’t know too many people who could be given a Veela dedicated to their personal happiness and would still choose duty, but it made sense that _of course_ he would be saddled with one.

Third, Harry acted like nothing Draco or the Veela could do would make him happy.

Draco choked as that last thought filled his throat with acid. He lowered his head and stared at Harry. Harry stretched out a hand, and Draco came over and took it. At least, holding Harry’s hand like this, he could pretend that Harry was going to give him an answer that was sufficient to heal the Veela.

“All the things I could think of would hurt you.”

“You think I’m whole right _now_?”

Harry gazed at him with direct, clear eyes, so damn _clear_. Draco knew dozens of people who would be overwhelmed and begging with lust by now. “I mean that it’ll hurt the man you are. You deserve the right to choose your own mate, your own happiness. I don’t want to manipulate you into acting against that.”

Draco screamed into his face, and watched with no small satisfaction as Harry jumped. He smirked at him and pulled him closer, brushing his hair out of his face. “Right now, you’re the mate I have. I could have a different one in the future. That person isn’t here yet. I have no idea who they are or what they’ll be like or whether they’ll make me happy in a different way. Right now, I have you. I want to _know you_. Is it such a great betrayal of your precious privacy to tell me something about yourself?”

Harry’s eyes were like clear, still windows for a long moment. Then his face abruptly firmed, and he reached out and hooked his fingers in Draco’s robes. Draco caught his breath. _At last. At last._

Harry pulled him closer and kissed him.

Draco moaned and wrapped his hands around Harry’s shoulders, closing his wings around them in the next second. Harry tasted of dust and sweat and battle. A little sour, a little sharp. Draco found himself hardening as he wondered if Harry would taste the same on other parts of his body—

Harry gasped and said, “I want to control the kiss.” Draco only heard him because he was so close. “Please,” Harry added with a sudden jerk of his head backwards.

Draco paused, staring at him, then reluctantly released him. Harry nodded in what honestly looked like thanks, and straightened his own robes before he reached out and let his hand glide gently down Draco’s chest.

Draco sighed. This wasn’t a kiss, which he might find breath to remind Harry of in a moment, but it was nice. It sealed the cracks that had started to open in the Veela’s heart.

Harry stepped in and tipped Draco’s chin up and kissed him again. Draco shivered. The soft stroke of Harry’s tongue was new, and so were the small fires that seemed to spring up on Draco’s lips and in his throat in response.

Harry went on licking, his eyes more than half shut, and Draco let him. His hands were full again, anyway. He’d put them back on Harry’s hips without noticing. Harry shifted in, and his leg brushed Draco’s erection.

Draco shuddered. But the Veela found no trouble in holding still. Harry had told them that this would make him happy. Its mate’s will was the most powerful goad to any Veela. He had to obey.

 _It_ had to obey. Draco was still trying to sort that, trying to decide if he was really that separate from the Veela anymore, but his head was spinning, and he honestly didn’t know.

Harry paused, as if he expected Draco to lunge forwards and break his silent promise, then gave a shaky sigh and eased in. His hands were on Draco’s neck now, exploring the slender column of his throat. Harry murmured approval into the kiss. Draco smiled. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done to earn that approval, other than be born with a grippable throat, but it was pleasing nonetheless.

Harry molded himself closer and closer. Draco was trembling a little. The Veela could sense the contentment and pleasure rising off its mate, and that was more powerful than anything. More powerful than wingbeats; it was like having a second pair of wings beating in his stomach and sending flutters through him.

For the first time, Draco began to think that it wasn’t too terrible for _him_ , as a human, to have a mate.

He didn’t touch Harry, but only stood there as Harry explored the depth of his collarbones and the breadth of his shoulders, murmuring a few suggestions as he did so. Draco was so hard that he ached. But only when Harry stepped back, smiled, and said, “Thanks, I enjoyed that,” did he move.

Harry had wanted to control the kiss. The kiss was over. Draco seized him and flipped him over.

A _whoof_ of startled breath escaped Harry’s lungs, and his mouth started to open. But Draco sealed his lips with another kiss and his hand worked down and around Harry’s cock, flexing and stroking.

He didn’t open Harry’s robes or get to his pants. He didn’t have time. He _had_ to satisfy his mate, now. The sensation like a second pair of wingbeats had turned into an urgency so great that he didn’t know how to stop it.

Of course, he would have stopped in an instant if Harry had shown that he objected. But although he grasped Draco’s wrist, he only moved his leg to one side, and he moaned. His hips were humping as fast as Draco’s hand moved.

He hadn’t been hard for long, but under Draco’s touch, that didn’t matter. Draco felt as though his fingers had grown longer, more delicate, more skilled. He couldn’t look down to see if it was true, though. He couldn’t take his gaze from the sight of Harry’s flushed face, his turning chin, his fluttering eyelashes.

But Harry still did nothing until Draco breathed, “I want you to come for me.”

 _Then_ he did, all the lines of his face tightening, his body arching back and his mouth opening a little. Draco felt the wetness on his hand, but again, he couldn’t look down. There was nothing in the world but the little opening that Harry’s lips made, the way his tongue darted out, and how his eyes clamped shut.

Draco leaned in and kissed Harry’s cheek as he came down from his height. Then he leaned in to taste those lips and tongue. Harry made a soft sound, but not of protest. In fact, his hand reached out and clenched gently in the hair at the back of Draco’s neck.

Then he pulled back and blinked at him. “That was—you didn’t _need_ to do that.”

The emphasis on the word kept Draco from lashing out. “I know,” he said. “But I wanted to reward you.”

Harry watched him in silence. Then he said, “You mean the Veela did.”

It was as if a sudden layer of ice had fallen from Draco’s face and mind. He touched his own eyes, and shivered. Suddenly the obsession with seeing Potter come, with rewarding him, with feeling that it was intolerable to have Potter defend himself, was gone. Potter was an Auror. He _was_ there to defend Draco. Since when did Draco reward people who did their jobs with his hands and his body?

“You see.” Potter’s voice was gentle and deep. “You’re still doing things that you don’t realize until later are really the Veela’s desires. Let’s try to keep away from that, okay? So that _you_ don’t get embarrassed.”

Draco turned his head away without answering. There were two answers, that was the problem, and he didn’t know which one to give.

The Veela did like that it had pleased its mate. It was glowing away in the back of his head, as warm as a small forest fire. But Draco felt the same heat as near-hatred of the Veela.

But also…

He had _enjoyed_ making Potter come. Not in the same way. But it was there.

“I’m sorry,” Potter added gently, and then turned away to begin to patrol the edge of their wards.

Draco curled up on the pile of blankets they’d been sharing and closed his eyes. He wondered for a moment if he would be unable to sleep, the way he had been before he clasped hold of Potter earlier.

But perhaps he had crossed some boundary line by giving his mate pleasure. The Veela let him drift off, doing nothing for his increasing unhappiness.


	4. Warding Mistakes

"Have you found out why my fireballs failed?"

Harry nodded absently without looking up from the boundary lines in front of him, the place where the fireballs Malfoy had created glowed on the ground. They'd both got some sleep last night while the other one patrolled. It wasn't as good as the way Harry had slept when he was wrapped in Malfoy's arms.

But that whiny part of him was unhappy about a lot of things, including the lack of holidays Harry had taken while he was serving as an Auror and his breakup with Michael Corner. It would have to learn better.

"Why, then?"

Malfoy's breath was right on his ear. Harry controlled his start. Malfoy couldn't help it any more than Harry could help reacting, and he probably wished he could. "There were thin lines between the fireballs last night. I barely noticed them, but now I think they must have been carrying a lot more of the power than I thought." He tapped his wand between two fireballs. "They've been broken."

" _Been_ broken? Not broke?"

Harry shook his head and cast one of those spells Aurors hoarded and weren't supposed to show to outsiders. That part of him that considered keeping such secrets important would have to learn better, too. " _Exhibeo abruptum._ "

The air between the fireballs swirled with sullen yellow, and then bright threads appeared, green against the yellow. Malfoy leaned in, steadying himself with one hand on Harry's shoulder.

A few hours ago, those hands had made him come.

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded to the evidence phasing into being in front of them. "See that? Those severed ends of the green lines? They're the lines that were connecting the fireballs. Magic that dissipates, even if it's with a _Finite_ , would show as a softly dissolving end. This looks more like a broken thread. It was unraveled."

"I want to know what happened." Malfoy was flexing his hand restlessly, and it felt as if claws would emerge from his nails and slide under Harry's shirt at any second. "Nothing in this dimension should be strong enough to do that to a Veela's magic, or my kindred would never survive."

"We can't afford to remain here long enough to investigate it, though. We have to move on."

"Why?"

"Because those creatures might come back, or others like them." Harry turned around, still crouching, and looked up into Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy's nostrils slowly flared, but he said nothing, so Harry continued. "We don't know enough about them. We can't find out in time to fight them. My carelessness and lack of knowledge already got a whole escort of Aurors killed. So we need to--"

Malfoy immediately leaned down and embraced him, hands sliding down his back. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you. Don't say it was. It was the harpies."

Harry closed his eyes, trembling. The _terrible_ thing was that he had always wished for someone to hang onto him like this, to reassure and comfort him when the guilt assaulted him like a whip.

It figured that, when it finally happened, it would be a counterfeit of the real thing.

He mastered his trembling, and said, "Well, I didn't know how to fight the harpies. I don't know how to fight _too many_ of the things that we're ending up facing. It's not fair to you. You deserve a full escort and the best protection you can get, but I'm afraid you'll have to settle for me."

"You're the best. I want only you."

Malfoy's words and hands had both warmed up to the point that Harry knew he wasn't talking about protectors anymore. He sighed and forced Malfoy's hands off him. "We know now that something out there can break Veela protections. We'll back up those fireballs with my own wards tonight. In the meantime, let's eat something and start walking."

"I could carry you."

"Not for long, not without tiring your wings." Harry knew he was fit, but that just meant he wasn't a lightweight like he'd been when he was a teenager. He cast Malfoy a critical glance. "You'd use up a lot of energy. What do Veela do to restore their energy?"

"Let me show you, Harry."

Harry had his wand aimed before Malfoy took his first step towards him. "Back up, Malfoy. You don't really want this, and that's what you need to keep in mind as we walk. You're a human, not a Veela."

Malfoy flung his head back with a huff and closed his eyes. Harry honestly couldn't tell whether he was more frustrated or in pain. "You want me to use my Veela senses to locate this enclave of my kind, and we have to deliver a message to them, and the only way we survived was me going through the transformation, but you object to the natural consequences of that?"

"I mean that we have to keep focused on the mission. Not on doing something that would accidentally make me your true mate."

Malfoy's eyes opened slowly. Silver swirled and danced in the depths of his grey eyes, an honest, separate whirlpool. "You are my true mate. Screw spells and distinctions and all the rest of it. I know I wouldn't feel as comfortable with you as I do if it was only the spell."

Harry sighed a little. Even though he knew nothing about the spells that made humans into Veela, he had been afraid something like this would happen. “And now it’s starting to confuse your brain.”

“What do you _mean_ by that, Potter? Nothing is confusing my brain!”

Harry had to smile. As long as Malfoy sounded _that_ indignant, and called him by his last name, too, then the chances were better that he was remembering who he really was. “You say things like I’m supposedly your true mate. Would you ever have said that before we came to this dimension?”

Malfoy spent a moment staring at him as if he didn’t remember, and then his cheeks turned a dull red and he looked away. “No,” he muttered.

Harry nodded and stood, stretching out the pain in his back from crouching. “So. You know now where one of the lines is. Whenever you find yourself thinking of me with too much affection, then you can realize that you’re thinking too much the way a Veela would.” He cocked his head at Malfoy, who stood there with his eyes closed. “Which way to the enclave?”

It seemed a struggle for Malfoy to lift his arm and point, but he finally did. Harry nodded and aimed their steps along that line. Their supplies were already packed. Harry did listen carefully behind him.

After a moment, Malfoy followed.

*

“Shit, Malfoy, are you all right?”

Draco gritted his teeth and stared down at the wound on his hand. He’d been walking past what he had looked like one more piece of humped, fluffy blue ground. And then it had turned into a mass of spikes that lashed out and impaled his thumb. Potter had arrived and froze the bush into a ball of ice before it could drain his blood through those hollow spikes, which Draco thought was what would have happened.

“The cut’s shallow. It’ll stop bleeding in a second.”

“Still.” Potter took Draco’s hand and aimed his wand at the cut before Draco could argue. “ _Episkey_.”

Draco sighed as the magic flowed over him, and closed his eyes. Even though the pleasant feeling the minor charm gave him had to be a side-effect of his transformation, he didn’t think the power of the sensation was. Potter had always been a strong wizard.

“Ready to go on?” Potter rubbed his hand and stepped away.

Draco opened his eyes. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Healing you?”

“Treating me—gently. As if you feel affection for me.” When Potter only stared at him, Draco shook his head, and bitterness spilled over his tongue. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter! What do you _think_ happens when you touch me like that and my body reacts? Veela mates care for each other, touch each other like that, perform minor magic to soothe pains and aches. It’s fine if you protect me. That only confuses my instincts.” _Even as it also drives me mad._ “But you don’t need to constantly do _more_ than that.”

Potter stiffened his back and spent a moment looking like a statue of a noble warrior facing down the enemy. “You’re right, Malfoy. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I can keep protecting you and nothing more.” He turned around and began to lead the way carefully past a cluster of more bushes.

 _Not that that will work,_ Draco thought in despair, as he followed. The apology only meant that Potter seemed more gentle and considerate and _desirable._

Draco hadn’t had many people in the last few years who thought of him as someone worth protecting. The other Aurors who had died under the harpies’ claws had barely been polite to him. Potter had been more than that, making sure Draco had a comfortable place to sleep and enough food each night. It made sense that he would keep that up after Draco had transformed.

Many people who wouldn’t have despised him for being a former Death Eater would have despised him for becoming a beast. Potter didn’t. He did what had to be done, and even let Draco make him come if that was what it took.

 _Merlin,_ Draco thought as they plunged down a dusky red hill and came up one that was almost orange, _how am I supposed to keep from falling in love with him?_

*

_He’s bearing it so well._

Harry was resting on one knee as he peered through a small clump of trees—well, they were thin enough to look like toothpicks, and all silver and transparent, with small blue branches that grew straight above them, but “trees” was the only word Harry had to call them—at the animals below, and trying to decide if they were dangerous or not. Malfoy rested beside him, squatting, his head bowed and his eyes closed.

_I couldn’t have borne transforming into something else and losing part of my natural human being so well._

Harry knew better than to talk about it, though. Malfoy had begged him to only say necessary things, and Harry would keep that promise.

The creatures below confused him. They were squat and small, although their bodies looked as bulky as a cow’s. Now and then they moved, and something stirred on their backs. Harry thought it was folded wings, but he didn’t know. He also thought they were grazing, but again, he couldn’t be sure.

And he was so fucking _tired_ of not being sure.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about creatures like that,” he muttered to Malfoy, jerking his head at the field.

“No.”

Malfoy’s voice was tight, under strain. Harry glanced at him sharply. His head was still bowed, and his hands were trembling. As Harry watched, his fingers curled unnaturally, back in towards his palms, as if he was trying to grip his own wrists.

Harry moved around in front of him. He had said he would keep himself to himself as much as possible, but this had to be handled. “What can I do?”

Malfoy uttered a half-gasp. “You would phrase it like _that_ ,” he said, and gave Harry a dull, glazed glance. “Most of the time, I don’t notice when I cross the line over into my other self. But now I can hear its voice like a separate one in my skull. It wants one thing from you, and one thing only.”

“Sex?”

Harry felt as if he’d fallen off a cliff when Malfoy shook his head. “No. I must—I want—it wants—a kiss. Kiss me like you mean it, like you’re my true mate.” His body shimmered, but his wings didn’t manifest. Harry wondered if he was too tired or under too much strain for that to happen. “Harry.”

 _He’s crossed the line again,_ Harry thought, his heart heavy and soft. But when he opened his mouth to explain why he shouldn’t do that, Malfoy simply closed his eyes and turned his head away.

And Harry _couldn’t_ leave him like that.

He gently touched his fingers to Malfoy’s chin, turning his face back, and then kissed him like he meant it. His lips were soft, warm, and suddenly open under Harry’s. Harry gasped sharply, but didn’t rein himself back in. This was something Malfoy needed, something he _had_ to have if they were going to survive at all.

Harry wouldn’t let himself doubt. His hands wrapped around Malfoy’s neck and back, and he pulled him into it. Malfoy rested his own hands on Harry’s shoulders, but he didn’t move them other than that. His breath was tugged from him in short, disbelieving gasps.

His tongue in Malfoy’s mouth was setting off lightning in his brain. Harry pulled back with a cry at last, when he knew he would do something stupid if he kept this up for one more moment. He braced his forehead against Malfoy’s chest and licked his lips. There seemed to be a taste of salt there that wasn’t his.

“Thank you, Harry.”

To his surprise, Malfoy’s voice really did sound free of strain. He slid a hand down Harry’s cheek, and Harry raised his head, blinking. Malfoy smiled at him, gentle, tender, and stood up. For a moment his wings shimmered about him. Then he pulled them back in towards his body, and they faded from sight.

“Sometimes I think a small gesture towards the Veela will soothe it better than a big one,” Malfoy went on briskly as he moved towards the far end of the “trees.” “It makes it think more is coming.”

“Oh.” Harry licked his lips twice more, and hoped he could stop himself soon. “Talking about it that way doesn’t make—I mean, the Veela can’t hear us?”

“Right now, it’s so drunk on your kiss that it isn’t listening to anything but its own memory,” Malfoy said dryly. “Those creatures don’t have teeth, but they might be prey that would attract a predator. Let’s go around them. We can do that without getting far out of our path.”

“Right.” Harry nodded and braced himself with a hand on a tree for a minute, lowering his head as he breathed.

“Potter?”

“You go ahead.”

Malfoy had one eyebrow raised when Harry glanced at him, but he nodded, and strode out into the open. The cattle-like creatures started at the sight of him, but didn’t fly or run. Harry stood with his eyes closed before he followed.

_It didn’t affect him at all. Not the real him, the part that isn’t Veela. I should be grateful for that. I know I should. It would make this a lot harder if he was—ravening and wanting to pin me down all the time._

Harry sighed and lifted his head, following. If he could do so many other unselfish things for Draco’s sake, then he could certainly keep his disappointment to himself.

*

It was only Draco’s training in Occlumency that kept him from going back, pinning Harry to the ground, and fucking him.

That kiss had been good enough to break through any kind of barrier Draco had between himself and the Veela. Now he walked lightly and shuddered the entire time, licking his lips and cupping his hand up around his face so that Harry wouldn’t see.

_He’s doing this because he knows he has to to keep us alive. It’s the same way that he cast the spell when I asked him to. Because he wants to keep me alive so I can fulfill the mission, and he wants to live himself._

Draco quickened his steps. Really, he thought, the sooner they reached the Veela enclave, the better. That meant Draco could be unbound from Harry and find a mate who was interested in him because of what he was, not what he had been: a human and the Ministry’s messenger.

The Veela part of him insisted that he would never find someone who suited him as well as Harry, but then again, he had never thought of Harry as a mate before they cast the spell. One sensation would replace another. He would get over this.

And he tried to keep his mind away from thoughts of how noble and stubborn and self-sacrificing and generous Harry was by looking over the slope in front of them, which was gradual but long, and descended to join what looked like a small range of orange hills.

At once, his spine stiffened. There were several creatures watching them from further down the slope. Draco couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen them before, but maybe the “trees” had blocked his eyes.

These creatures looked almost like ostriches, tall birds with folded wings and long legs. But their colors were shimmering gold and red like autumn leaves instead of black and white, and Draco could see the obvious. There were huge, curving claws on their feet instead of smaller toes, and their beaks were curved, too. It looked like an eagle’s beak, except a lot larger.

Predators. And they were watching Draco and Harry, who had emerged from the copse behind him.

“Trouble,” Draco breathed, without looking around. Harry stepped up beside him. “What do you think—”

The birds charged them, wings beating. Those wings couldn’t lift them from the ground, Draco realized, but they could sure speed them along, and they were coming faster, even uphill, than Draco had thought they could move.

“We defend, of course,” Harry said lightly, and moved in between Draco and the birds, his wand already whirling.

Draco snarled and called on his wings. His stubborn mate was not going to defend himself, _by_ himself, again.


	5. Curved Beaks and Claws

Harry was slightly out in front as the first bird came charging towards him. It had a huge sickle claw on the leading foot, he saw. He would have to be careful not to let it hit him.

_And that’s different from one of my ordinary fights as an Auror how?_

Harry ducked and rolled, letting the foot kick out above him. Then he waved his wand and uttered a Simple Cutting Curse, and the bird was bleeding and limping and shrieking, and Harry jumped up and beheaded it with another Cutting Curse.

“Harry!”

The shriek came from above him. Keeping track of the position of the next two birds without having to concentrate, Harry raised his head.

Draco was swinging above him there, on wings so white they cut like a slash across the gleaming blue sky. He descended faster than Harry could have cast a spell, his hands spread wide. Only they weren’t really hands anymore. Scales seamed them, and talons had replaced his fingers.

Draco screamed, a ringing sound that made Harry thrum with wonder and confidence. He turned back to the birds in time to see them stunned senseless by the sound, frozen and staring up at Draco with their necks cocked.

Harry laughed, and rushed them.

*

“Harry!”

Draco cursed and dipped down, faster and faster, his legs spread. He had meant the scream to stun the birds, yes, but also to warn Harry to _keep back_ and let the Veela in the area handle this. There was no reason for _both_ of them to risk their lives, and less reason than none for Harry to do it.

He snapped a kick and a fireball into the face of the nearest best, out on the trailing edge of the flock. The kick knocked it back; the fireball burned its neck off. Draco whirled and drew his talon back, flames writhing around his claws, then hissed in exasperation. He couldn’t simply hurl the next clump of fire because Harry was in the way.

Admittedly, he was _magnificently_ in the way, surrounded by churning bolts of lightning, snapping a kick that collapsed the legs of one bird, cutting off a wing that an enemy tried to hit him with. But the sight of his mate defending himself made Draco feel weak and shaky.

And _pissed his Veela off._

Draco screamed again. Two of the birds on the edge of the flock at once spun and ran in the opposite direction. Draco’s voice this time was meant to inspire terror instead of freeze them, and he cursed himself for not thinking of the tactic before. He could have kept Harry from fighting them at all if he’d frightened them away.

But Harry was still in the midst of the fight with one particular bird, and the last was so close to Draco that it appeared to have decided against running. It scampered towards him instead, wing cocked for a buffet.

Draco shot up to its head height and hovered there, then snapped a kick out the way Harry had, except this one took the bird in the chest. The raptor went flying and sprawling both at once, snapping its beak in sounds of pain. Draco followed it and spread his talons, snicking them apart like the blades of a pair of scissors.

Feathers and flesh fell to the ground, and the bird tried to limp for a moment on one leg, then failed. Draco laughed and caved in its chest with another kick.

He turned, alert, as he heard a thump, but it was only the other bird dying as Harry finished it by decapitating it, again. He looked around with his eyes as alert as the birds’ had been, covered with blood, his wand already moving in a charm that cleaned part of it off.

“Where are the others?”

“Gone.” Draco’s voice was low and guttural. The adrenaline still coursed through him, but now it had only one target. He dropped to the ground and stalked towards Harry, because if he flew the chase would be over too soon.

Harry stopped, but didn’t have the good sense to run. He eyed Draco for a second, then sighed and tried a rational tone that was just guaranteed to piss Draco further off. “Is this about me defending myself and you again? Because—”

Draco pounced.

Harry opened his mouth in what was probably a protest, or maybe already had it open, and Draco filled it with his tongue. He bore Harry to the ground, scrambling at his trousers, finally cutting through the cloth with his claws when it wouldn’t yield. Harry was still trying to say something in a muffled voice. Draco shook his head and reached down to grasp him.

Harry _burned._ More than he had when Draco touched him the other day. Draco could think of only one thing. _Make him come._

“Claws!”

Harry could speak again, because Draco had neglected to continue the kiss. Draco frowned and leaned down to resume it, but Harry grabbed his wrist and wrung it back and forth.

“Draco, _talons_!”

Right. His hands were still talons and might damage Harry in a tender part that Draco had no wish to damage. He concentrated, and after a second pale flame danced up and down his fingers and then retreated, taking the scales and sharpness with it.

“Better?” Draco smiled at Harry.

“Much.” Harry smiled back, and Draco thought of what his mouth would look like open in a pant of pleasure, and leaned down again. Harry scooted back on his elbows and said, “We need to talk about—”

“No, we don’t,” Draco said, in a quiet voice that seemed to silence Harry more effectively than shouting would have. He told himself to remember that trick as he sliced through his own robes, freeing his erection, and then moved on top of Harry. Even though he didn’t haw claws, he still found himself able to pin Harry’s wrists easily.

Harry was gasping. Draco studied his eyes carefully, and knew he wasn’t afraid. He smiled and kissed Harry on the forehead, then on the mouth, then on the cheek. And he began to move, his body falling and rising the way it never had before. The Veela knew more about pleasure than Draco did as a human.

Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulders. He was kissing his face and arching his hips up, and for once there was no argument. Draco sighed, and his thrusts became slower. He didn’t have to hurry. They could both enjoy this.

And from the way Harry was flushing, his incredulous eyes searching Draco’s expression, he was.

“Did you think that I would leave you to starve?” Draco said into his ear, as their erections touched again and Harry arched his throat, leaving a line of pale skin for Draco to lick. “Leave you alone? How could I do that? You’re dear to me.”

Harry shut his eyes tightly and raised his hips faster. Draco didn’t understand why, but he could certainly help him achieve his desire. His arm dipped beneath Harry’s spine, and he pulled him up and up.

Harry gasped and opened his eyes when he realized they were hovering. Draco smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Let me do it now,” he murmured. Without the earth to push against, Harry would have a harder time bringing their cocks into contact. So Draco did it, pumping his wings and lifting Harry into his body with every downbeat.

Harry gave a muffled, gabbled sound that might have been a protest. Draco ignored it so easily. His vision was spiraling inwards, his breath huffing. He knew Harry was there, but he could hardly see him anymore.

He could _feel_ him. He could _smell_ him. He could _hear_ the thrum of his blood in his veins.

God, he was wild. And waiting to be taken.

Draco dipped his head again, and this time, he kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth deliberately. He worked in towards the middle, kissing harder and harder, letting his fangs emerge so that he could cut Harry’s lips a little. He licked up the blood, soothing, while the warmth between their groins gathered and swirled.

Permanent bonding would come when he took Harry, but for the moment, their pleasure was too high. They had to come. Then they would rest and complete the bond.

But for the moment, Draco could taste his blood, and show him a pale shadow of what they would have when they were more permanently joined.

Draco licked up the blood of his last kiss, and at the same moment flipped them upside-down, so that Harry was resting on his chest as they flew. Harry stared at him, hands clutching at Draco’s robes.

“How are you doing this?” he asked, in a voice that Draco felt more by the moving shapes of his lips than heard.

Draco smiled and curled his arms around Harry. He knew it was impressive, the strength to keep them flying upside-down, supporting Harry. And still he had the concentration to lift his hips and hump, and a second later Harry’s eyes rolled back and he let his head droop onto Draco’s neck.

Plans and smugness bled from Draco’s mind into the pleasure. His own blood was surging up through his veins now. He wrapped his arms around Harry and closed his eyes, arching his back, dimly aware that they were high enough above the ground that they wouldn’t touch it when his wings inevitably stalled in the midst of orgasm—

 _Now_.

Draco uttered the sharp croon that Veela could only make in these moments, and Harry snapped his eyes open, and met his gaze, and came.

Draco followed him, tumbling and shearing through the air, sometimes spinning so that Harry was the one on the bottom, but always holding him so tight that there was no chance of him following. And when his shaking and the flood of pleasure through him, white-gold and _hot_ , subsided, he soared up, still comfortably fifty feet above the tops of the thin “trees.” Harry clung to him, muttering something under his breath and shaking his head. Draco tucked the top of Harry’s head beneath his chin and chuckled.

“What is _funny_?”

“That you could believe even for a second I would let you fall,” Draco whispered back, and his breath brushed across Harry’s earlobe and tickled a shiver from him. “Of course I won’t. But let’s go down now. My wings are tired.”

Harry only nodded without looking up, and Draco chuckled again, indulgently this time. He wouldn’t have thought Harry was the type to be _shy_ to someone he’d just shared sex with. Perhaps he felt bashful or silly with the way their hanging cocks brushed against each other and the cloth of their robes as they soared down, though.

When they landed, Harry stumbled away and sat down hard on his arse. Draco crouched in front of him, his wings spread so that Harry would see the glint of silver on the edges of his feathers, and crooned, softly.

Harry looked him reluctantly in the eye.

“Are you angry because I didn’t warn you what I was going to do?” Draco whispered.

“Not—really. Just unprepared, and then I had so many sensations coming in at me all at once…” Harry trailed off. He was already tucking himself away and performing a Cleaning Charm.

Draco nodded. “Well, there’s one thing you can be sure of. We’ll make a secret camp today. Find the best place we can. And when we bond, we’ll have secure walls around us. I know a spell that’s exhausting, but if we find a good place and use it early enough, with time for me to rest, then we’ll have a house around us.”

Harry was quiet for a second, tracing the dusky curve of red dust beside them with one finger. “And a bed?”

“As good a one as I can Transfigure from a stone. I promise.”

Harry nodded back, and then stood up and started moving. “Let’s find a campsite, then.”

“I think you’ll find that I can scout from the air as easily,” Draco said. He launched himself before Harry could argue. He could see the arguments already forming behind Harry’s eyes, and he would listen to them when they were comfortable and safe.

_So passionate, my mate._

*

Harry walked with his eyes trained on the dust crunching under his boots. His body pissed him off. It was languid with satisfaction, and it _shouldn’t_ have been. He should have had the strength to resist Draco’s advances, especially since they kept coming closer and closer to making the bond permanent.

Draco thought he wanted this right now. But what would happen when he woke up and found himself bonded forever to the man he was supposed to have taken only as a temporary mate?

Harry set his mouth. _He’ll probably think I’m conspiring against him, but the only thing I’m trying to do is protect his future._

He watched Draco swooping freely back and forth in the glowing light of this place, now and then touching down near a hill or a large pile of stones and considering it for use as an obvious campsite before he shrugged and took to the air again. His body was fast and fit. The light glinted harder from his silver wings than anything else in sight. Harry could feel his breath catch at the way Draco swept and tilted and hurtled around, better than anyone on a broom.

_No. I can’t let myself get caught up in what I feel. That’s really not important._

Harry kept walking, not pretending that he was looking closely for a campsite, until he heard Draco trilling. It made Harry’s chest ache. Harry could imagine going to sleep in Draco’s arms as he sang like that, or under a tree where he was perched.

_He’s not a Veela for a traditional reason, though. When his human instincts come back…_

Harry nodded and quickened his pace. That was what he had to think about. For now, Draco and the Veela were one. But it was Draco the human being Harry stood a chance of falling in love with, the Veela he had to ignore.

_No matter how nice it is to be coddled sometimes._

Draco was swooping around the crest of a hill that had a shallow depression in the top of it. Examining it, Harry had to admit it was more than adequate. They would have shelter from the wind, a good place to build a fire—a flat circle right in the middle of the hollow—and good sight for miles. And if Draco was serious about casting this spell that would conjure a house, they’d have plenty of room.

“Let me,” Draco said, when Harry drew his wand to create the fire.

Harry gave him a sideways glance, and let it happen. In fact, since Draco had described the spell that would create the house as “exhausting,” this was better.

Draco stood for a moment in the hollow, his wings beating as if they, and not his wand, were the true conduits of his magic. Then he whispered Latin words Harry couldn’t grasp, too fast and breathless to hear, and whipped his hand forwards. A cloudy light exploded from his hand and hit the ground. For a second, Harry thought the dim orange earth and the dusky blue grass were about to catch fire.

But it didn’t. Instead, the white light expanded and built the outline of a snug cottage with rafters of softer flame. Draco was grunting with effort as he pushed the outline further and further out. Harry realized with a start that the strange flame expanded with the motion of his breathing.

And he remembered then the other time he had heard grunts like that from Draco, and had to turn away.

He missed the final moments of the spell creating the house, but Draco’s low warble alerted him that it was done. He turned back. And blinked. This wasn’t just a white stone house, it was one with white flowers draping the front door, a red door handle, and green shutters on the windows.

“There isn’t any furniture inside,” Draco said, his eyes sultry as he moved towards Harry. His hips swayed and his eyes were unnervingly direct. “But there’s a sturdy wooden floor, and I’ll conjure a bed the instant we’re in.”

“Then why don’t you do that?” Harry whispered, and Summoned a stone from nearby. It was no lie to make his voice breathless, to his disgust. “Here.”

Draco caught the stone and examined it with his fingers for a moment, although he didn’t take his eyes off Harry. Then he nodded and turned towards the door, throwing it open. Harry saw the polished wooden floor beyond the entrance, exactly as Draco had promised.

And Harry hit him with a Stunner to the back, and surged forwards to catch him before he could hit the ground.

For a second, Harry held that sweet-smelling weight in his arms, and bowed his head to sniff the side of Draco’s neck. A great weariness swelled inside him. He wished, he _wished_ , that everything could work out the way he and Draco both wanted it to.

But that was never going to happen, and Harry had to work to preserve Draco’s dignity and make keeping them both alive his priority.

He dragged Draco inside and managed to Transfigure the stone into a bed himself, although it probably wasn’t as big or comfortable as the one Draco would have managed to make. He dug out the blankets and draped them over Draco. Draco was comfortably unconscious on his belly, wings draped over the sides of the bed.

Harry touched his cheek with one finger. Then he turned and went outside to keep watch.

_Only a few more days. Only a few more days until he can have a permanent mate worthy of him, and I can keep myself from falling in love with a man who couldn’t return it._


	6. Multi-part Decisions

Draco opened his eyes, and blinked. His head ached as if he had banged it into something. He rubbed it, and noticed the same tenderness in his joints, and a fog in his mind, and a pain as if someone had stretched the bones in his legs too much. When he rolled carefully onto his back, he grimaced. The skin was stretched and fragile even over the wings that must have faded into the tattoos on his back while he slept.

Not the reaction he would have expected after a night of having sex with his mate—

Draco felt his face turn cold at the same moment as the fog cleared from his head.

He bolted upright and found his wings snapping out after all. He spun to face the far wall, only to freeze. Harry was sitting there, head bowed a little, one hand dangling, in a chair he must have conjured or Transfigured. He was asleep.

_Asleep. He’s safe. But he Stunned me._

And from the aching in his bones and head, if not the fog in his mind—that might have been caused by the Stunner—Draco knew Harry had made a stupid and _dangerous_ decision. Veela needed to have regular sex with their mates. Harry knew that. When the Veela was ready for the full bonding, denying it could have far worse side-effects than had happened so far.

Well. So Harry had made a decision that they weren’t going to solidify their bond last night. Draco thought it only fair that he should be able to make one in return.

With a faint smile, he picked up his own wand, which Harry had thoughtfully placed on the floor beside the bed, and began to cast.

*

“Wake up, mate.”

The tone was so sharp that for a second Harry thought he’d overslept and Ron had had to come through the Floo and drag him to work. He sighed and lifted his head, working one hand through his hair. “I’m up, I sw—”

He froze when he realized that he couldn’t move his arms. He thrashed for a second, and ropes chafed at him. The only reason he didn’t panic completely was Draco’s low chuckle, and the mock-tender caress of a hand on his cheek.

“Familiar, isn’t it?” Draco had both their wands in his fingers, and was spinning them around. “You made a decision that I didn’t know my own mind and you had to Stupefy me ‘for my own good.’ Well, now I’ve bound you for your own good. So that you can’t run away or ignore me until we’ve…talked.”

Harry automatically rocked backwards, trying to move the chair, years of Auror training on what to do if he was held hostage rearing up in his mind. Draco gave a shrill shriek, and Harry whipped back to look at him.

“Still trying to run away? How did I end up mated to such a _coward_?”

Harry tightened his hands in the ropes and reminded himself of where he was. He was in front of Draco, and he couldn’t run, and he couldn’t get out of here the way he would if was the hostage of someone who hated him. That would only make the situation worse.

“You didn’t end up mated to a coward,” he said quietly, his eyes fastened on Draco’s. He supposed he should be grateful Draco hadn’t gagged him. Then again, this was no fun if Harry couldn’t respond. “You ended up not quite mated to someone who isn’t sure what you want, whether it’s you or the Veela wanting those things.”

Draco stopped spinning Harry’s wand and tossed it on the floor. “You _ask_ me. That’s how you’re sure.”

“But you keep telling me that you want some things, and the Veela wants some things. How do I know which one’s talking at the moment? What would happen if we bonded permanently and you regretted it for the rest of your life?”

Draco said nothing for long enough that Harry thought he had missed the point. Then he said, “I wouldn’t regret it.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that. That question is unanswerable until after it happens, and then it’ll be too late to break the bond.”

Draco’s face had gone cool, unreadable, and he was rapping his own wand against his leg. “Do you know what happens when a Veela goes into a mating frenzy like I did yesterday, and then is denied the outlet of bonding?”

“No.”

“I woke feeling as though someone had been pulling on me, with a headache, and aches in my knees and wrists, and with my skin feeling as if it would tear when my wings came shooting through it. It would be worse if it had been longer, or if you had abandoned me while I slept. You made a decision to keep me from you without even _knowing_ the consequences.”

Harry shuddered. “What would have happened?”

“I would have ripped apart. Literally. If you’d Stunned me again when I woke this morning, you would have found a mess of torn bones and blood and flesh in the bed tomorrow. How does _that_ sound?”

Harry gagged and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“Not good enough. You’re going to tell me what you’re so afraid of, and you’re going to do it _right now_.”

Harry had to look again. Draco stood right in front of him, his forehead resting against Harry’s scar. He’d dropped his own wand now, and his hands slowly kneaded and slid over Harry’s shoulders, up and down, in soft circles. His face was already going slack with desire, his eyes brilliant with the glow Harry had seen in them before.

Harry summoned his breath and spoke. “I’m afraid that you’ll start hating me again after we’re bonded and the mating frenzy’s gone and you can think like a human. And then we’ll both be tied together with someone we can never get away from for the rest of our lives.”

*

Draco paused. He supposed, considering their past histories, that he should have realized something like that would be Harry’s reason.

But he still wanted to shake his head. Didn’t Harry understand _anything_ about the way Veela bonding worked and would tie them together when it happened?

_Apparently not. And can you blame him? You’ve never explained it to him._

With a sigh, Draco loosened the ropes on the chair. Harry slumped forwards for a second, but controlled himself before he fell to the floor. He straightened up and gave Draco a wary look, rubbing at his wrists.

Draco ignored the stab of guilt he felt at that. He knelt down in front of Harry and took his hands. Harry looked unwaveringly into his eyes. There was also guilt in his face, but Draco knew better than to think that would make him back down and admit Draco was right.

“The permanent bonding creates some changes in the bonded pair, just as the spell already has,” he began quietly. “I’m not going to turn back into a regular human who hates you when it’s done. How could I, when I’ll be fully a Veela by that time? I’ll be more committed to loving and protecting you than ever.”

“But I’ve read that their mates are extremely important to Veela.”

“ _Yes_. How does that contradict anything I’ve just said?”

“Then don’t you want it to be someone who’s already important to you? Or at least someone who’s more compatible according to the Veela magic, or whatever they actually use to test mates to find a good one for you?” Harry let out a large breath and cupped his cheek. Draco leaned in to it with a flutter of his eyes and a moan that seemed to catch Harry off-guard. He didn’t withdraw his hand, though. “Not someone you bonded with just because you had to.”

“Normally, the permanent bond doesn’t happen this quickly. There’s a longer courting period.”

And of course Harry managed to misunderstand that as well, his eyes softening as he stroked Draco’s arm. “Yes, I understand. This is unusual. But I promise, if you can just hold out until we get to the Veela enclave, you can have—”

“Unless you’re going to end that sentence with the word ‘me,’ do _not_ finish it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Draco roughly caught Harry’s hand and held it even when he made a little motion as if he wanted to pull it back. “The courting process should have lasted longer than this. I _should_ have been able to ‘hold out,’ as you put it. The fact that I _couldn’t_ suggests we’re a lot more compatible than either of us thought. That you’re already important to me.”

Harry shook his head at once. “I can’t be.”

“Why _not_?”

“Because I’m not the kind of mate you need. You want me to let you defend me. I’m a trained Auror, and I can’t hold back in a fight. You need someone who has a pleasant history with you, who supports pure-blood views, who wouldn’t fight your instincts all the time. I’m not that person.”

“And you know more about what I need than _I_ do?”

Harry blinked once, then said, “On this, I think I do. I just—look, I’m selfish _too_ , okay, Malfoy? I’m trying to spare myself as much as you. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tied to someone who’s going to wake up someday and realize he hates me.”

“That won’t happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Only if you continue to act as bloody _frustrating_ about this as you already have!” Draco said, and shoved at him. Harry nearly toppled out of the chair. Draco caught his breath and set about intelligently countering the points Harry had brought up. It was obvious that just pushing him around, as satisfying as that was, wouldn’t convince him.

“I can live without defending you. I’ve done that a few times now. I’d like you to _let_ me do things for you, protect you, when you can. It’s not something I have to absolutely have or I’ll pine myself to death.

“Someone with a pleasant history with me? That doesn’t matter as long as we can both be adults about it. I think we have. And my pure-blood beliefs aren’t going to survive a transition back to our world. You think other people like my friends and their families are just going to accept me with a shrug and a laugh, pretending I’m one of them, as much as ever? No. They won’t. By their standards, I’m not human anymore.”

“Oh, Draco, I’m so—”

“ _Stop_ bloody saying that! Maybe we had to make the best of a bad situation, but I think we’ve both done that, haven’t we? We’ve fought together and survived, and you only Stunned me because you didn’t know how dangerous it was to deny the bonding.”

Draco finally trusted himself to reach up and lay his hand on Harry’s cheek without feeling that he might try to slap Harry around. “Are you still going to deny the bonding now?”

Harry stared at him. His eyes were deep enough that Draco could feel himself on the verge of getting lost in them. He shook his head sharply. He couldn’t let his instincts dictate what was going to happen right now.

Mouth dry and bitter, hand trembling, he waited for Harry’s decision.

*

_I really thought we could hold out until we got to the Veela enclave. I had no idea that it was dangerous to Stun him._

Harry silently acknowledged to himself that he had reasons to feel guilt. Then he put the guilt aside. He had to do that all the time during cases, when it would have paralyzed him into brooding over times he hadn’t been fast enough or hadn’t put the clues together in the right order.

“I won’t deny it,” Harry said.

Draco stood up and swept his wings behind him. For a moment, Harry thought he would walk away after all, and he wondered why, when he had admitted that he’d accept the bonding. Then he realized Draco was—posing, almost. The sunlight coming through the windows of the conjured house made his wings catch the light and sparkle.

Harry stood up. He felt light-headed, his heartbeat dancing in his ears in the way it did when he was trying not to run from some danger. He had made his decision, and he did think it was the only right one.

But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of all the things that could go wrong with the bonding. Draco regretting it later, the other Veela disapproving, the friends Draco had mentioned back in their own world who might try to persuade Draco to abandon him, the people who always wanted to kill Harry for defeating Voldemort…

It was one of the major reasons that his relationships with Ginny and Michael hadn’t survived. There was always someone watching, someone threatening, someone disapproving. And that would be even truer now that he was bonded to someone who used to be a Death Eater.

How could he justify putting Draco in danger like that?

“Hush, then,” Draco said, and Harry found a blanket of mental calm dropping over him. He blinked and lifted his head.

“That’s something Veela can do to their mates, then?”

“ _For_ their mates,” Draco said, with a roll of his eyes, and he reached out and caught Harry against his chest. Harry found himself in the cloak of the wings a second later, draping forwards and around both of them. “Yes. They can. And I think you would be well-advised to calm down and let me take charge here.”

Harry snorted as he remembered the temptation to let Draco fuck him yesterday. The thought made him shift, an emptiness abruptly aching between his legs. “Aren’t you going to do that anyway?”

“I’d like to do it because you want me to.”

Harry nodded, slowly and then with more decision when he saw the way Draco peered at him. “All right. Then this is me asking you to. Please,” he added, and put aside his fear and uncertainty the way he’d forced himself to put aside his guilt, and leaned in to kiss Draco.

*

_He still thinks that something is going to go wrong and hurt us._

Perhaps nothing would ever soothe that fear until they were bonded, and Harry saw the way they could live together and not destroy each other.

But while Draco would have preferred their bonding to be clear and joyous and untainted by any hint of fear, he much preferred this to Harry Stunning him, or even his own mood yesterday. Then, he hadn’t understood his mate. He had been sure Harry wanted this every bit as much as he did, and that would have been false.

Now, he kissed Harry slowly, letting him relax and get used to Draco’s tongue in his mouth, and Draco’s hands on his shoulders, and the way he pulled Harry towards the bed, step by step. He stopped after each step to see if there was going to be a problem.

Harry was the one who at last pulled back, and looked him in the eye, and smiled a little.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said in a breathless voice. “I’m not going to bolt out of here.”

Draco nodded and kissed Harry so abruptly that it left them both breathless. Draco pulled back to rest his nose against Harry’s collarbone and sniff. His scent was especially prominent there, sweat and strength and warmth.

“I want you so much,” Draco said. “And this bonding is going to go _fine_. And you _are_ important to me.” He slid his hand softly down inside Harry’s belt, and felt the way Harry grabbed his wrist and held on for a minute before he gulped.

And then let it go.

Draco gripped Harry’s cock, and hissed a little at the heat of it. Then he kissed him again and flourished his free hand. The fingernails turned to claws at a spark of magic from him. He reached down and began to carefully shred Harry’s robes away from him, never touching his skin. After such a long denial, he _needed_ to do something symbolic to the barriers that had separated them.

Harry watched with a sucking of his lips that faded as he realized Draco wasn’t about to hurt him. He smiled a little as Draco bent down to kiss him again.

“You’re serious about making this a permanent bonding.”

Draco had no idea what about his shredding of Harry’s robes had suddenly convinced Harry of that, but he smiled and drew him into the curve of his arm, playing idly with Harry’s erection while he completed the circle of cutting the cloth. Harry groaned and flung his head back.

“Yes,” Draco said, and managed to make the word come out and make sense, just before he turned and heaved Harry onto the bed.

Harry lifted himself on his elbows and watched Draco come prowling towards him, his wings flaring around him.

“I’m ready,” Harry said softly. “Do your worst.”

 _It’s going to be my best,_ Draco thought, and reached up to kiss Harry again before he set about proving that.


	7. Before the Rush

Harry didn’t know that he’d _ever_ felt as good, and just from one touch of Draco’s hand.

The minute Draco’s hand clutched his hip, trails of warmth raced away from it. One reached up to his heart, and curled around it, making Harry gasp as something like a gentle version of adrenaline flooded him. Another raced down to his muscles, softening and loosening them, getting rid of the aches he had from sleeping in the chair.

And a third touched his groin and arse. Harry arched his back. He was empty and achingly hard, both, when seconds ago he would have only said that he was hard.

“That’s to get you ready,” Draco said, his voice soft and hoarse. Harry glanced at him and found him resting on his hands and knees next to the bed, his wings draping over him like great palm fronds. “Some—some Veela mates find it undignified.” He cleared his throat and then couldn’t seem to ask the question that he’d been prepared to ask.

“No, I d-don’t—oh, _God,_ Draco!” Harry threw his head back as the trails of warmth that had been smoldering along in his body suddenly erupted into what felt like open flames. He flung out a groping hand, and found Draco there, waiting to hold onto it, onto him. The world shuddered and spun around him. “This feels so _good_.”

In a second, Draco’s reluctance or fear melted away, and he jumped into the air and hovered over Harry. The shadow of his wings provoked little flashes of new heat on Harry’s skin. “That’s what I want,” Draco whispered. “To bring you pleasure, for always.”

He settled onto the bed.

Harry reached up, guided by old memories in a book he’d read about Veela, and took hold of the edge of Draco’s left wing. Draco promptly straightened and stiffened, thrusting his erection against Harry’s hip.

Harry’s arse throbbed with how much he wanted something inside it. “Draco, _please_.”

“Yes, but not yet,” Draco said, because he seemed determined to be merciless this morning. He stroked his hand across Harry’s belly.

Harry yowled as more heat erupted there. He’d had gut-aches, and he’d had gut-wounds, but he’d never felt anything like this, the deep, trickling yearning for _more._ He grabbed Draco’s hand and slammed it back into place, and still that wasn’t enough.

“What’s going to _satisfy_ me?” Harry gasped.

*

“I am.”

Draco hadn’t known he was going to speak until he heard Harry’s words. He pulled Harry towards him, nuzzling fiercely along his neck, and then giving in and biting as hard as he could.

Harry screamed as he came. His neck formed a gleaming, blood-stained bow in front of Draco. Draco breathed softly across the blood, and it rearranged itself and then caked and scabbed over, forming a mating rune. Draco touched it and smiled.

“What are you _doing_ to me?”

Harry was almost whimpering. Draco pulled back so he could answer that question, and found Harry on his hands and knees, shivering. He was hard again, and he rolled his head back to stare at Draco with enough desperation that Draco felt claws sliding free of his fingernails without his permission.

He soothed them back into nails, and smiled at Harry. “Satisfying you.”

“Nothing is going to satisfy me at this point unless you’re inside me, above me. _Now_.”

Draco agreed, once he managed to work out the sense of Harry’s words from his gapes and gasps, and moved behind Harry. He had to close his eyes to regain his composure when Harry arched his arse against him, urging him to mount. Draco shook his head, pinched the edge of his own wing, and then drew his wand and conjured lube.

“What are you _doing_?” Harry could whine, Draco decided. “I’m ready—”

“Not ready enough to avoid pain later,” Draco said, and something in his voice must have reached down to Harry’s brain and asserted authority, because Harry’s mouth clicked shut. Draco reached into Harry’s arse with one delicate finger, hooking it.

 _There_. Harry’s breath seized up, and he said, “You really will kill me before I have another orgasm.”

“Consider that I haven’t had even one so far,” Draco breathed into his ear, while his fingers worked Harry wider and wider open. The Veela’s magic spiraled around Draco, more delicate than smell or sight, telling him that Harry hadn’t done this recently with anyone. That made Draco flex his wings with delight.

“I could take care of that.”

Draco rubbed his cock against Harry’s leg in response to his tone of voice. “No, I think you’ll do as I wish,” he said simply. “And what I wish is to be inside you when I come.”

“I already _offered_ to do something about that!” Harry abruptly yanked himself off Draco’s fingers and presented his entrance again. “You don’t need to do anything else. I don’t mind a little bit of pain later—”

Draco arched himself over Harry and bit his ear. “ _I do_ ,” he said. “Listen to me. I am going to make you feel only pleasure and not pain.”

*

The words flooded Harry with belief. He had never felt anything like it before. It was as overwhelming and heady as the fragrance of a field of flowers.

_I can trust him. I can listen to him._

Harry felt as if he were drunk, with none of the danger involved. Part of himself, the part that was always on guard and distrusting authority because he’d learned that the hard way, relaxed. Harry’s arms nearly folded beneath him at the sudden release of tension. He even uttered a small sob. Immediately Draco pressed himself against Harry and murmured a wordless question.

“It just feels good to know that I don’t have to protect myself all the time.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco said, and his fingers returned to Harry’s arse, probing and holding him open. “And it’s a privilege and a pleasure to take care of you.”

Harry lowered his head into his arms. No one had ever said anything like that to him.

Of course, he knew that people had thought it. Ginny probably would have, when they were dating. Now and then he’d thought he saw a glint in Michael’s eyes that indicated it.

But they couldn’t make him believe it. Not the way Draco could. Harry would believe it whether he wanted to or not, as long as Draco was speaking to him in that particular voice.

It was a comfort, though. Harry didn’t have to look out for creatures charging in through the walls of a tent, or throw curses on a moment’s notice because no one else was going to, or wake up at night and go check on Azkaban to make sure the captured Death Eaters from the war were still there. There was someone who would do that for him, if he asked for it.

He only had to lie here, and accept the way Draco’s fingers curved and then withdrew, and Draco laughed in a way that made Harry’s bones turn to liquid. His arms finally gave out completely. Draco paused and kissed his way up Harry’s spine, then gently put a pillow under his head.

“There you are,” Draco breathed. He paused, though, and Harry lay there listening to him take a few irregular, stuttering breaths with complete confidence. There would be a good reason Draco had stopped. Harry was eager for him to resume, but he could wait, to see what it was.

“Would you mind if I used my—magic?”

“Have I said I would so far?” Harry turned his head to the side, knowing exactly where Draco would be right now. And yes, he was crouched on the bed next to Harry staring at him with solemn, shining eyes.

“This is different, though. This magic will release any inhibitions you still have. It’ll make sure that you can come as many times as I want you to.” Draco took a deep breath and swallowed what Harry assumed was air. “I want you to—if I want you to keep crying and begging me for my cock, that’s what’ll happen.”

Harry smiled and reached out to caress his cheek. He already felt dreamy and content, floating on the pillow and the bed. But the thought of how much better he could feel if he let Draco use his magic made his cock stir and his body sway from side to side. “I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

Draco’s eyes widened, and a silvery swirl filled them that Harry suspected was pure Veela, not so much human. He leaned down and kissed Harry over and over again, until Harry’s lips were numb and tingling.

“Thank you,” Draco murmured, and pulled back, and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s spine. Harry expected to hear him say a spell, but he only lowered his wings and then lifted them a few times, like a bird getting ready for flight.

Harry felt the difference when the magic arrived, though.

It was the deepest, most wonderful thing. It felt as if the bed had suddenly become a bathtub filled with warm water. Harry arched his back and sighed again as some barriers that had been standing in the middle of his head and spirit just seemed to—melt away.

He could do what he wanted, he realized, clear-headed as never before. Draco wasn’t going to turn him away or judge him for it. There was no one here who needed to see the “Boy-Who-Lived” and think of him as perfect. There was nothing here except deep peace, and Harry’s need to ask for what he wanted.

“Fuck me, please,” Harry murmured. He got up on his hands and knees fully, no longer needing the pillow that Draco had put beneath his head. He turned around and smiled dreamily at Draco, who looked stunned. “What? Did you never use this magic before?”

Draco seemed to snap back into himself, and shook his head. “Of course not, since I never transformed into a Veela or had a mate before.”

“Tell me that I’m the only mate you’ll have.” Harry sighed as another rill of warmth cascaded down the side of his head. “And scratch my back.”

Draco slowly scratched in the middle of his back, sounding bemused as he asked, “Where’s the itch?”

“Funny, Draco,” Harry said, and reached out and clamped down on Draco’s wrist and _raked_ his hand across the middle of his back. Draco gasped, and Harry let go of the hand and tilted his head back. Yes, there was a scratch that had taken off at least some skin down the center of his back, near the spine. Harry nodded. “Yes, perfect.”

“You _want_ that?”

“Yes. I can’t carry marks around most of the time. I mean, it would make me less able to move fast when I was fighting an enemy,” Harry said simply, and dropped his head again. “But I don’t have to worry about that now.”

“No,” Draco said, his voice a little choked. “You don’t have to worry about that now.” He took a moment, as if his magic was still transforming his fingernails into claws, and then he raked Harry’s back again.

The pain leaped straight down into the middle of Harry’s chest and jump-started his heart. “ _Draco_ ,” Harry moaned, and reared back on his heels. Then he grabbed hold of his arse-cheeks and pried them apart, holding them open in front of Draco’s stunned gaze.

“Come on,” Harry whispered. “ _Fuck_ me. I think I already asked you that, didn’t I?”

*

Draco’s wings grew longer and wider than he had known they could. His fingernails curled harder into claws, and he found himself moving forwards as if in a trance, mounting Harry and sliding into his arse.

He had thought this would mostly be about his own fantasies. Instead, it seemed it was about Harry’s.

Which was _wonderful_.

Harry hissed once, and then said, “I want you to move as fast as you can, fuck me as hard as you can.”

Draco’s vision darkened when he heard those words. Until then, he didn’t realize how desperately he’d been waiting to hear them. Or his Veela had. But at the moment, they were one and the same.

So he took Harry at his word, and began to fuck him hard enough that Harry was grabbing the sheets and swearing, and Draco’s vision went on narrowing and darkening and swarming with red specks.

The pleasure was unreal. It made it hard to breathe. Yet he was spreading his wings and screaming in Harry’s ear and tearing his nails down Harry’s back when he could get balanced enough to do it. It was incredible.

And Harry’s _will_ …

He could feel it.

It bubbled and swirled past Draco like the waters of a brook. Draco only had to concentrate on it, and he knew what Harry wanted. When he wanted the angle of Draco’s cock changed, when he wanted to be grabbed and bruised, when he wanted Draco to pause for a bit and then hammer into his arse.

A stray thought flew by: _Is it going to be like this every time I use my magic, or is it just for this bonding?_

The pleasure incinerated the thought in the next instant. Draco found himself rearing up without deciding to, sinking his claws into Harry’s back again—Harry grunted and slammed himself back towards Draco in the _sexiest_ way—and then mantling over Harry like a hawk over its prey as he screamed.

The orgasm felt unreal, too. It snatched Draco up and made his vision turn white and his whole body shudder as if he were falling. Draco’s hands clenched, his mind broke and settled and reformed, and he screamed a second time, weakly. His hips were moving on instinct, but the rest of him was still, draped over Harry.

_I want that again. I want it._

With difficulty, Draco restrained the urge to spin out his own magic so that he would get hard again. He knew he _could_ , and now he knew where the reputation Veela had for being insatiable came from, but he was so tired he might injure himself.

 _Or Harry_.

And with that, the stream of Harry’s will poured over him again, and he knew Harry hadn’t come. Draco bent down, incredulous, hissing, ready to touch Harry’s cock if he had to, even though he knew Harry would prefer if he didn’t. “What—”

“Wanted—” Harry was gasping as if he’d spent hours in battle, his arms shaking and even his neck trembling. “Wanted—to wait for you to tell me I could.”

Draco smiled, suddenly languid and smug, as though his magic had flooded over him in turn. He reached out and touched the single point on Harry’s hip where his claws had cut deepest, bringing up a well of blood.

“Come,” he whispered.  
*

Harry did.

The ripple started in the dimmest, furthest reaches of his body, and then it sped towards him, gathering strength and speed as it went. And by the time it crashed against his jaw and his groin and his hips and his teeth and every other part of him, it was a wave. Harry found himself screaming without breath, bent over, his hands clasped over his stomach. His face smashed straight into the bed, and still that wasn’t enough to muffle the scream.

He felt. He was pleasure. He was heat. He was will, his own and Draco’s, so joined that there was no telling them apart.

For a moment. Then the moment collapsed, like he had, and left him blinking and dazed in the center of the bed.

Draco bent over him, making smug noises that could have been either human or Veela. Harry rolled over and slowly stared up. He extended a hand without thinking, and Draco moved into it, his head bowed, his lips moving as he nibbled at Harry’s fingers.

“That was incredible,” Harry sighed.

“Yes. That was bonding.” Draco settled back on the bed and pulled Harry with him casually, not seeming to care that Harry’s body was limp and his _should_ have been, so that Harry settled into the curve of his knees. “But I promise that we’re going to work on making the everyday thing as amazing as that.”

“That wasn’t everyday, Draco.” Harry yawned and found he couldn’t open his eyes. Well, that was all right. He knew where everything was: Draco’s hands, and Draco’s wings drooping soft around his shoulders, and the bleeding cuts on his hips and back and shoulders. “Nothing about being with you is. Don’t pretend it will be.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Draco’s voice was soft and odd, but Harry didn’t want to question the source of the oddness right now, so he didn’t. He laid his head back on Draco’s shoulder and drifted instead. The warmth was rising from the bed like water in a bathtub again, and he followed it away and down, listening to Draco’s murmurs, taking his touches and reveling in them.

His last thought before he faded was about how he’d always hesitated to ask his lovers to mark him, because he might have to move fast on an Auror mission the next day.

This time, he could afford to let Draco do it, because Draco would be there at his side.


	8. Awakening

Harry opened his eyes with a long, slow groan. There were soft aches in most places on his body, as though he could stretch his arms and stand under a hot shower and they would all go away. Of course, he didn’t know if there was such a thing as a hot shower in the dimension he was escorting Draco through—

Then the source of the aches came back to him. Or the memory did. Harry bit his lip and sat up slowly.

Draco sat in the chair Harry had conjured last night, staring at him intently. From the dusky glow through the windows, it was almost evening, or what passed for it here.

“Um, hello,” Harry said. He shifted. One of those soft aches was coming from his arse, and another from his neck. When he reached up, there was a pattern on one side of his neck that felt like it might come from teethmarks. He thought about conjuring a mirror so he could see, but from the positioning of the mark, that might still be difficult.

And based on the devouring glance Draco was giving him, he probably wouldn’t be able to get a good look at it before he found himself flat on his back.

“Are you all right?” Harry added, remembering what Draco had told him about the possibilities of a denied bond.

“I’m fine.” Draco stood up. His wings were flaring behind him. He stalked a step towards Harry, then paused. “I think we should remain here tomorrow as well. We’ll need time to get settled into the bond.”

“Okay,” Harry said. From Draco’s tone, it wasn’t really a discussion, and Harry did know enough about Veela to realize it was better not to challenge a newly mated one. “Are you all right? Have you eaten?”

“One of those questions you’ve asked already,” Draco muttered, but he smiled before Harry could apologize for it. “Yes, I’ve had some of the cheese and dried meat we brought with us. But…” His claws were out on his hands as he flexed them. His gaze bored into Harry’s face. “I want to go out and hunt for you. A mate needs fresh meat.”

“Can we trust that any of those creatures we saw aren’t poisonous?” Harry asked. “That’s my only concern about it.”

Draco had opened his mouth as if he was about to continue, but now he snicked his jaw shut and blinked at Harry. “You—don’t object to me going out to hunt? Or eating what I catch?”

“Not as long as I know it’s going to be safe for you.” Harry forced his feet to bear his weight and stepped from the bed towards Draco, aware how naked he was and that his arse was aching and that Draco had already shifted towards him. “Is there any way to be sure that the meat isn’t poisonous?”

Draco nuzzled at him. “I would never feed you anything I wasn’t sure was safe. And I think those grazing creatures we saw are. If they’re not—well, my Veela instincts to keep you safe should tell me. I’ll perform spells to leach the meat of anything foreign to a human’s body after I catch one.”

Harry nodded. He started to step back, but Draco’s hands came down hard on him and held him. Harry suppressed a wince as the soft ache in one shoulder, where Draco had bitten and clawed him, turned into a sharp one.

Draco soothed him at once with a gentler brush of his hand, and said, “You’ll be here when I get back.”

Harry swallowed. “Yes, of course I will.”

Draco smiled at him. “Good.” Then he turned and burst out through the door of the house, already flying before he cleared the frame. Harry stood in the center of the house and watched him out of sight.

Then he searched for a stone to Transfigure into a basin and conjured water to pour into it. And he did create a mirror after all, and held it up so that he could see the rune, or mark, or whatever it really was, on the side of his neck.

It was made of teethmarks, as he’d expected, but Draco must have twisted his head or worried at it or something, because it was far different than the simple curved indentations Harry had expected a human mouth to be able to make. It _did_ look like a rune, a curve like a crescent moon crossed with a straight line about halfway up. Harry blinked and touched it.

Pleasure rushed through him, and he sagged to the floor. Then he stood up, shook his head, put the mirror away, and stripped his robes off so that he could get into the water and lie down.

The water stung the scratches and bites, but all _that_ did was make Harry hiss a little with more pleasure. How long had it been since he’d had someone to do that for him? Too long. And while Draco might not want to do that _every_ time, he was at least enthusiastic about it.

For a minute, Harry’s hands stopped moving as he remembered that he and Draco were mates now, and he was going to have to ask _lots_ of questions about preferences, and choices, and who knew what.

But in the end, Harry sighed and laid back so that his hair could float in the water behind him and he could watch a few flecks of dried blood make their way to the surface. He would deal with that, yes. But he wouldn’t make any hasty decisions, or any decisions at all until Draco had returned to the house and could share them with him.

Harry had learned his lesson about trying to assume things when it came to decisions about Draco.

*

Draco bent low over the grazing beast he had killed and sniffed. It was about the size of a large sheep, with a shaggy coat that had been blue when he swooped down on it but was turning a deep blue-black now. Draco closed his eyes, called on his Veela magic, and willed it to fill his senses, nostrils and eyes and ears.

Still, he could sense nothing dangerous about the beast, nothing like poison in its meat or fat that would harm his mate or compounds that Harry might simply find disagreeable. Draco nodded and began to carve up the beast’s haunches with his claws. It was much easier that way than trying to use his wand.

A soft screech came from above him. Draco immediately crouched above his kill and tilted his head back.

At first, he thought it was harpies circling over him, and his mouth opened to give a warning cry. But then he realized it was other Veela. The silvery color of their wings and their size proclaimed it.

Draco stood up slowly. He was able to sense the distance of the Veela enclave—still shining on the other side of hills and what felt like a large body of water—and he hadn’t imagined others would be out this far. He watched them carefully as they backwinged so that the taller man landed in front of him. The other one descended, but hovered some distance away.

The nearest man studied him for a second. He was pure Veela and had probably been born that way, Draco thought. His hair was silver, but not with age; his eyes glowed the same color. He had long, delicate fingers fringed with horn like talons, and claws that looked as if they had replaced his nails permanently.

“We were not aware of any Veela from Talinga who planned to travel to our territory,” the man finally said.

Talinga was the name of another Veela enclave that Draco thought was further away, and not the one he had planned to visit. He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m a human wizard—well, I used to be one. I was coming to deliver a message to you, if you’re Veela from Asovima.”

The man blinked. “What happened?’

“My Auror escort and I encountered a gang of harpies that killed most of them and wounded me. I had to use the spell that transforms me into a Veela and establishes a temporary bond with a human. That human is the last surviving Auror. And he’s my new mate.” Draco clicked his teeth to emphasize the need for them to keep their distance. He’d heard about other Veela doing stupid things around newly-mated Veela, sometimes stupider things than humans did, if they found someone’s mate desirable.

The man recoiled. He said, “You have made a temporary mate a _permanent_ one? That is not _done_.”

“He was too compatible with me to let go,” Draco said, and spread his wings. “I’m taking this kill back to him. Our bond is permanent. You will leave us alone.”

“If you mean to come to Asovima, how can we do that?” The man who’d been hovering behind the speaker shook his head. “What you’ve done is disgusting. You will be separated when you come to our enclave.”

Draco screamed. The sound came welling up from inside his chest and echoed through the hills, making some of the beasts like the one he’d killed, who were on the other side of the slope, grunt in fear and run away. The hovering Veela leaped back in surprise. The Veela standing in front of Draco blinked.

“You will _not_ take him away from me,” Draco said, and his claws clenched so that the hide of the beast under him tore cleanly. “He is—he is _mine_. He will be bonded to me for life now. He wears my mark. He submitted to _me_.”

“I suspect that you were neither his first choice, nor is he the best partner for you,” said the silver-haired man, shaking his head slowly. “An Auror is a violent creature. He was a guard. How could he be the right one?”

“He _is_.” Draco didn’t feel any doubt, despite what the Veela might say. He spread his wings and dropped into a further crouch over his kill, one that would let him strike hard at the Veela’s groin and femoral artery if he pressed this into battle. “You will not take him from me.”

The silver-haired man frowned for a moment. Then he glanced back at his companion and said, “We need not pursue this now. And it may be that you are irrational where you would not be otherwise, because you are in the first stages of a new bonding. When you come to Asovima, we will revisit the question again.”

He sprang up then, and hung over Draco, shaking his head. “A word of advice. Since you are a young Veela, you might not know how long it takes for us to find our mates. It is not a mere matter of looks or bloodlines, the way I know it often is among wizards. You could search for years and never find one. What are the chances that you stumbled on the right one _immediately_? No chance that he is truly the right one for you, rather than a convenience.”

He turned and shot upwards. Draco knew it was faster than he could fly himself. For a minute, it seemed the Veela who had never landed might say something, but then he turned and followed the other. Draco kept his claws unsheathed and his wings mantled over his dead prey until they had vanished into the far depths of the cloudy sky.

Then he went back to butchering the beast, even though part of him wanted to chase them and force them to recant their words. His mate was his first priority, far more important than a pair of Veela who, Draco suspected, were _jealous_. Neither of them had smelled as if they were mated.

_Harry is mine. They will not be taking him from me._

*

Harry wrapped his robes back around him and raised his eyebrows as Draco came stalking through the door. Maybe he was upset because he’d been removed from his mate’s side for a while. “Did you find something for us to eat?”

Draco waved his hand, and a bloody haunch floated in behind him. “It’ll be fine as soon as we cook it,” he said. But he wasn’t looking at the food. He was moving around Harry, sniffing at his neck and his hair.

“I took a bath,” Harry said. “With no shampoo. That’s probably what you smell.”

“Not that,” Draco said. He rested his nose against the mark on Harry’s neck, and Harry shivered. Draco gave him a feral smile and finally moved back a step, although he looked as if he was arguing with himself while he did it. “I met a few Veela from the enclave we’re heading to. Asovima. They were unflattering about our turning the temporary bond into a permanent one.”

Harry tensed. This was _exactly_ what he’d been afraid of, that Draco would regret this when they woke up. “Well, shit. That’s going to make it hard for you to deliver your message, isn’t it?”

“Don’t _ever_ do that,” Draco said, and glided right up to him, lowered his head so that he was practically curved over Harry’s neck and his mark, and unfurled his wings to drape them in silver shadow. “Don’t _ever_ tense and think that you’ve just made my life more difficult. You _haven’t._ Fuck them if they think that they’re going to get away with separating us. That’s what they said. I want you. I’m going to have you.”

Harry blinked. “So…not regretting it, then.”

“They’re probably jealous because they’re not mated yet.” Draco ruffled his wings and leaned further in.

“Maybe they were.” Harry gently raised a hand and pushed him back a little. “Meanwhile, there’s a piece of meat bobbing there and dripping blood, and we’re both hungry. Let’s eat first and then discuss what to do.”

Draco blinked and looked around as if he’d honestly lost track of the meat. Harry reckoned he probably had. He’d had an _intense_ look in his eyes for a while there.

“Of course.” Draco waved his hand, and the meat bobbed further into the house. Harry raised his eyebrows. Draco was doing wandless magic. It was probably part of the same magic that had let him mark Harry and have the mark stick around, and made sure such a rough ride wouldn’t give Harry a lot of pain today.

Harry smiled privately at the thought of that ride, and drew his own wand to create the fire that would roast the meat. Draco immediately snapped around and rested his hand on Harry’s wand, shaking his head. “You don’t need that.”

“If we’re going to roast the meat, then we can eat, Draco,” Harry said, and tilted his head so that he was more solidly meeting Draco’s eyes. “I told you I was hungry. I don’t particularly want to wait.”

“I’m going to light the fire.”

Harry flicked his eyebrows up. It seemed like a silly thing to argue about—

But that made it silly for _him_ to argue about, too, if Draco was that intent on building the fire and cooking his meal.

Harry took a step back and made a sweeping bow. “All right, then. Why don’t you go ahead and do that, and we’ll eat, and then we can talk about what we’re going to do when we make the Veela enclave and have to deal with Veela who are jealous of you for being mated.”

Draco nodded slowly. He was obviously trying to figure out if Harry was being sarcastic. Harry rolled his eyes at him.

“This is something you need to do,” he said. “I don’t understand everything about how Veela mating works, but I understand that much. Do what you have to do.”

Draco leaned forwards and gently kissed him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And Harry moved over to sit on the bed, feeling a little silly, but also safe and well-cared-for.

*

Draco kept glancing at Harry while he roasted the meat, using spells to turn it faster. His mate was hungry. Draco knew in a few days he would calm down and stop feeling as if his world would end when Harry became hungry, but just now, Harry was right. He needed this.

And Harry smiled at him, and the mating mark on his neck gleamed. Draco didn’t need to touch it right now. Seeing it was enough.

When he brought over the first plate of delicately roasted meat, he looked into Harry’s eyes. He was asking, but he didn’t know if Harry could read the question from his face alone.

Draco _wanted_ him to, though. It would—matter.

Harry did. He murmured, “Yes, Draco, you may feed me,” and opened his mouth so that Draco could place the first bite of meat on his tongue.

Draco felt a deep shiver invade his wings in the moment before they relaxed. He breathed out. They would make it, no matter what the Veela of Asovima said. No one would separate them.

They were together.


	9. The Great River

“Ready to go?”

Harry nodded and looked up at Draco, settling the cloak he’d Transfigured out of some spiky leaves over his shoulders. It had begun to rain, an odd rain, like everything about this dimension was odd. The water seemed to boil and fizz away a few inches from the ground, creating a mist that swam around their feet. But that meant it would still plop on his head and shoulders without the cloak and an Impervious Charm. “Yes. Are you going to keep your wings out when it’s raining like this?”

Draco cast him a sidelong look as he flapped lazily. “I thought you liked them.”

“They’re going to look substantially less handsome when they’re waterlogged.”

Draco gaped at him for a second, and about the time when Harry had begun to worry that he’d really _hurt_ him, Draco laughed and drew his wings in. They turned to silver tattoos on his shoulder blades, and faded from sight. Draco stepped up to caress Harry’s cheek.

“You always know the right thing to say to me,” he murmured.

“I’m glad,” Harry said, and turned his head to the side to kiss Draco’s palm. “But let’s go, yeah?”

“You’re so eager to confront those Veela from Asovima?” Draco was opening the door, though, and casting the spell that reversed the house’s creation. It faded away and left them exposed to the slightly darker blue sky and the rain. Harry drew the hood of the cloak across his face and cast the Impervious Charm.

“I want you to be able to deliver your message, and then we can go home. Maybe if we don’t spend a lot of time around them, they won’t have a lot of time to say stupid things, either.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

And then Draco began to stride in front of him, and Harry fell in behind him, speeding up once they were down the side of the slope and he was sure it wasn’t muddy. Draco reached back and caught his hand without turning. Harry quickened his pace so they were walking shoulder-to-shoulder.

The pressure of Draco’s side against his kept him warmer than the cloak or the charm.

*

Draco paused when they came over the top of the highest hill they’d climbed yet, and he saw what awaited them.

Two days ago, when he’d confronted the Veela from Asovima, he’d sensed a great body of water to the east, or whatever the direction they had to travel in actually _was_ , since the sun basically rose from everywhere. He’d thought it was probably a huge lake, and he could fly over it, carrying Harry, if he had to.

But he hadn’t counted on the rain. Harry was right. His wings would be too waterlogged if he tried to do it today.

And it wasn’t a lake, whose shore they could have traveled if they had to. Instead, a great river flowed at the bottom of the valley, coursing high and blue-green even though the rain shouldn’t have touched it with its refusal to actually fall on the ground. The waters shed a faint aqua light of their own as they ran. They were so high, or so wide, that Draco couldn’t see the far bank.

Draco licked his lips and glanced at Harry. “From here, I can’t see a bridge or a ford,” he said.

Harry was quiet for a few minutes, turning his head from side to side. Then he picked up his wand and flicked it hard, once. The silver Patronus that came bounding out made Draco blink and start in surprise.

Harry glanced at him, cheeks twitching, even as he spoke to the Patronus. “Go look for a bridge or other place to cross down the river. Come back to us if there is one.”

The stag bobbed its antlers and tore off down the riverbank. Draco smiled at Harry and renewed the Impervious Charm on Harry’s cloak as he noticed the rain dripping into his mate’s eyes. “Clever.”

“He’s made of light. The rain isn’t going to inconvenience him.”

Draco kissed Harry’s cheek. “It was clever _anyway_.”

Harry flushed like a boy. Draco wondered how unused he was to compliments, if a relatively mild one could make him do that.

And then he wondered how Harry could have any blushes _left_ after some of the things they’d done in the past two days since their mating.

But he didn’t want to bring that up until they were safe in a warm, dry place where they could resume their activities. So Draco did nothing more than walk his fingers up and down Harry’s arm in promise, and cast some Warming Charms because the idiot hadn’t thought to do it himself, and wait.

The Patronus didn’t return. Harry grimaced. “No bridges or fords in that direction, then,” he muttered, and cast another Patronus. He sent this one upstream. Draco was wondering what would happen if _this_ one didn’t find a crossing. It would be useless for them to walk. The Patronus could travel a lot faster than they could.

But it only took a few minutes before the Patronus came back to them, snorting and stamping. Draco smiled and made sure that he was taking the lead as they followed it down to the water. If there were dangers in the river, including the danger of being pulled away by the current, no need for Harry to risk them right away.

There was a single bridge around a bend in the river, a smooth arch of stone with a railing on only one side. The middle arched high enough for the rain to wet it. Draco shook his head. “Ask it to find another one.”

“Come on, Draco. I faced harder challenges than this during Auror training. And you know that we probably won’t find another one. This is like this because most people around here have wings and can either fly or balance themselves on the bridge.”

Draco grimaced. He hated admitting that Harry was right, but he probably was. “All right,” he said, and extended his wings, ignoring the way the rain promptly slammed into them and made his feathers wet and bedraggled. “Come here, then.”

“We’ll have to go in single file, Draco.”

“Only on the highest part of the bridge. Until we get there, you are walking next to me, and next to the railing.” Draco extended his left wing over Harry’s head before Harry could say anything.

Harry gave him a sharp glance, but ended up rolling his eyes, nodding, and turning towards the bridge. Draco moved towards the river with him, now and then flapping his right wing to get some of the moisture off.

 _For what little good it’ll do._ The pace of the rain picked up, and although Draco was grateful not to have to slog through the mud that would have resulted if it was falling on the ground, he grimaced as he endured the little blows on his wings and head.

“Well, really,” Harry muttered, and waved his wand. Draco blinked as a transparent, flexible shield suddenly extended around his right wing. Harry did the same thing for the left wing a second later, and ducked back underneath it.

“What’s that spell? I’ve never seen it before.” The usual Impervious Charm could only be attached to cloth, not living material, and couldn’t easily be reshaped.

“I don’t know, actually,” Harry said, with a faint frown. “It just occurred to me that I could cast it, and that we needed something to keep you from being completely wet while we crossed the bridge. So I cast it.”

Draco tried not to chuckle, but he knew Harry could probably feel the smugness coming after him, because Harry rolled his eyes in his direction. “What?” Harry asked as they came to the bottom of the bridge. The slick stone rose immediately from the mud. At least it didn’t look as if it was going to come loose and wash away any time soon.

“Shared knowledge.” Draco bowed his head and blew warm breath on Harry’s ear. Harry jumped. “It means that you’re picking up on some spells that, most of the time, only Veela can cast. I don’t know the name or the incantation because I’m not a born Veela, but you picked up the knowledge from my mind. Mates do that, sometimes.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Well, if it helps me protect you better, then I don’t mind it. Now, come on. The sooner we’re over the bridge, the happier I’ll be.” He wrapped Draco’s left wing more firmly around his head, and took his first step.

Draco followed, soothing his own internal quiver. Harry wanted to be involved in defending Draco. Of course he did, when he was trained as an Auror. That didn’t mean he thought Draco was worthless as a protector. Draco shook his head and kept a vigilant eye on the river beneath as they neared the top of the arch.

However, nothing appeared. The rain continued to fall. The glowing blue-green water rose no higher. Draco crouched down and edged forwards a little as they came near the middle of the span, the part where he would have to let Harry walk ahead of him. No, the stone here was sturdy and uncracked. Whoever had built this had known what they were doing.

It was also slick as hell. That didn’t make him any happier.

“Do you want me to go in front?” Harry asked softly.

Draco straightened up and nodded. “I want to make sure that I’ll be in place to catch you if you fall,” he told Harry firmly. “And I’ll _see_ it if it happens. Unless you’d be happy to see me back over the bridge and keep looking at you the whole time.”

Harry snorted. “No. All right.” He unwound himself from Draco’s left wing and moved forwards.

He was balancing well on the bridge, and Draco was only a few steps behind him as they moved on. They reached the highest point and continued down. Draco’s skin still prickled, though, with more than the impact of the rain or the spray from below. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

Harry walked lightly, and reached the part of the bridge that was wide enough for Draco to come up beside him. He turned around, smiling, his mouth open to say something.

Then the largest fish Draco had ever seen, gleaming wet and silvery, leaped from the river and grabbed Harry by his nearest leg. Harry went off the bridge with his arms flailing, and hit the surface of the surging water, and disappeared beneath it, along with the fish’s tail and the trailing edge of his cloak.

Draco gave a furious, eagle-like cry and dropped after them, as gracefully as he could, not caring that his wings were half-waterlogged from before Harry had cast his spell.

*

_Shit!_

Harry could feel the panic tearing through him, catching at his mouth and nose. He wanted to strike for the surface, to get a breath, and he couldn’t. The fish was dragging him down further and further. He’d lost all the air in his lungs when he hit the water. His leg hurt and shed swirls of blood that made it obvious how much damage he’d already taken.

But he was still an Auror. Harry tensed, waiting for the moment when he thought the fish would let go of him and then try for a better hold on his body with its immense jaws. It couldn’t swallow or tear him up with the grip it had.

The jaws gaped open. Harry immediately jackknifed his body out of the way and snapped his wand up to his face, casting the Bubblehead Charm. Even as he gasped in air, he had to roll frantically to escape the fish’s fin as it tried to club him.

 _Now_!

Not all of the battle spells he knew were effective underwater the way they were above it, something he had known since fourth year and the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. But he’d received extra training since then, and he trained his wand on the fish and incanted as hard as he could.

“ _Fulgo_!”

The lightning bolt was turned to pure electricity in the water; it tore through the damn stuff and targeted the fish, which promptly began thrashing around. Harry grinned a little as he watched it turn around and flee. Then he began to swim for the surface. The last thing he wanted was to find out what else might come after him.

He had to pull up when something started dropping towards him, though. A second later, he realized it was Draco, bravely and stupidly diving. Hopefully he at least had a lungful of air, since he didn’t have a charm around his head.

Harry shook his own head and swam up towards him. Draco promptly grabbed him and tried to haul him up to the surface, but their soaked robes dragged them down. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and cast another charm, this time a modified form of _Wingardium Leviosa_ that hovered beneath them and spat them upwards in a stream of bubbles.

In seconds, their heads popped out of the water. Harry gasped aloud, and then remembered the Bubblehead Charm and took it off. He turned to Draco, gently touching his face. He looked as if he might have hit his cheek when he dived off the bridge. “Are you all right?”

“I should be the one asking you that question.” Draco swept his huge, wet wings forwards around Harry, shutting out the sight of the river altogether. “I can’t believe—Harry, are you all _right_?”

“I think I need to have the wound on my leg tended,” Harry said gently. “That’s the only injury that I got, and it hurts a little.” Adrenaline was still surging through his veins, but he knew from experience that it would hurt a lot more when he calmed down.

Draco grabbed him and spread his wings, hammering down wingbeats. It wasn’t enough to lift them back to the bridge, or even out of the water, but he managed to turn them around and get them headed for the bank they’d come from. Harry collapsed gratefully on the smooth, silvery grass that grew right at the edge, glowing with strange shadows in the blue-green light from the river.

Draco promptly hopped up beside him and bent down to look at his leg. Harry looked himself, and grimaced. The rows of the fish’s saw-toothed jaws were clear on his leg, and the punctures were bleeding freely. He was lucky the fish hadn’t been big enough to bite all the way through his leg.

“You need to be healed,” Draco said. “You need more help than I can give you. I don’t—know all the spells.” His voice faltered a little.

Harry reached out and clasped his hand. “It’s all right, Draco,” he said. “I think I can still walk on it. And I’ve had worse wounds on Auror missions where I couldn’t get healing right away. I think I know how to lessen the bleeding, at least, and that will help. Can you get me sitting up, on your shoulder, so I can get the best angle to aim my wand at it?”

Draco did that, but Harry could still feel how tense and trembling his arms were. Harry turned his head a little as he got ready to aim the wand. “Draco? Are _you_ okay? I saw your cheek was bruised. Are you—”

“No, I’m not hurt anywhere else, and the bruise is my own fault for diving after you the way I did,” Draco said harshly. “But I can’t heal you, and I couldn’t even eviscerate the fish for you. You took care of it all on your own.” He leaned his head against Harry’s shoulder and breathed in what might have been the scent of his skin. “I almost lost you,” he whispered.

“I know. But you’re helping me now by doing this. And we’ll make it. I promise.”

Draco’s hand tightened on his arm, then let go. Harry aimed his wand carefully and checked his memory of the incantation twice before he spoke it. “ _Ligo cruorem_!”

There was a sharp spark from both his wand and the wound at the same time. Then the blood that had run down his skin but hadn’t actually fallen on the grass or in the water turned and flowed sharply backwards. It coiled all around the toothmarks, covering them up, acting as bandages until they got too tight to be comfortable and Harry canceled the spell with a wave of his wand.

He flexed his leg, testing, then nodded. Yes, that would hold. And the spell was easy enough to renew when the stress of walking got too much and the blood began to flow again.

“I couldn’t do anything to save you,” Draco muttered, but he drew his hands back so that Harry could stand up. Or try to stand up. He grimaced as his leg protested, and cast some charms that eased the pain.

One glance at Draco told Harry that Draco would insist on flying him everywhere if he showed how much the wound hurt, so he shook his head and moved forwards at a steady limp. “You did everything you could, and I couldn’t have got back to shore by myself. Not swimming against that current. Please stop worrying about it, Draco. Let’s get across the bridge and to a place we can make shelter for the night.”

After studying him with narrowed eyes for a long moment, Draco nodded and extended his wing. Harry leaned against him and made sure to limp as little as possible as they attempted the bridge again.

This time, nothing leaped out, or up, at them. Draco dropped back behind Harry as they crossed the middle, and Harry could feel him trembling. But they passed the dangerous area, and came back together long before the far bank.

Draco was still shaking with discontent, half-growling. Harry studied the back of his head for a second, and decided. Draco might think of himself as the ultimate protector, but as far as Harry was concerned, mates had a duty to take care of each other.

“Could we stop early tonight, do you think? I should probably rest the leg.”

Draco immediately perked up. Harry knew it was the thought of fussing over Harry and making him rest and eat and probably sleep on conjured sheets. “Of course,” Draco practically cooed, and began encouraging Harry to walk further, step by step.

 _It is nice to have someone who thinks primarily of me,_ Harry decided. _As long as he lets me look after him, too._


	10. Arriving at Asovima

“Draco, we need to talk.”

Draco ignored the sudden leap of his heart, the desire to spread his wings and scream in anguish. It didn’t mean Harry was going to walk away from him. He really didn’t think that would happen. He nodded and leaned back so that he could meet Harry’s eyes from the other side of their fire.

“About what?”

“Well, two things.” Harry smiled a little, and the dusky red glimmering from the ground seemed to light his teeth up better than the fire. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do when we arrive at Asovima.”

“Not let them separate us,” Draco said instantly.

“But we can talk about that tomorrow, when we’re closer,” Harry went on. “We also need to talk about the way you hover over me all the time. I appreciate that you want to protect me. But I _can_ take care of myself. And I want to make sure that you’ll let me do the same for you.”

His eyes were so direct, so green. Draco shifted in place, knowing the desire to fly away from his mate for the first time. “That doesn’t really happen between Veela and their mates,” he said carefully.

“Really?” Harry didn’t sound impatient or angry, only politely disbelieving. “Then that’s going to make it a lot harder for us to stay mated.”

“You _said_ you wouldn’t—”

“That I wouldn’t leave you, right. But I’m also not going to give up being an Auror.”

Draco sat back with a ruffling of his wings. He spent a moment considering what he would say, but in the end he couldn’t come up with any better words than the ones he already had in mind. “I wouldn’t have asked you to. Just to be a bit more careful.”

“I am trying to do that,” Harry said gently. “I started doing that a long time ago. For Ron and Hermione’s sake, then.” Draco tried to ignore the shot of jealousy through him, and nodded. “But sometimes danger comes and finds me. The way it did with the harpies.” He paused, one hand on a piece of dried meat that Draco had made from the beast he’d killed. “Are you going to be able to live with that?”

“I don’t have any choice now that you’re my mate, Harry.”

“No, don’t think of it like that.”

Draco hunched his knees and swept his wings forwards around them. “If you’re going to leave me, then just _say_ so. You’re the only one now who can choose to break that bond. That choice is gone from me.”

“Oh, Draco.” Harry came around the fire and knelt next to him, smoothing his hand up and down Draco’s wing. Draco did his best to regulate his breathing, so Harry wouldn’t realize that was the opposite of soothing. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just—I’d hate for us to think about this in terms of lost choices, that’s all.”

“Then how do you want to think about it?” Draco leaned against him, and removed his wing gently from Harry’s hand. He didn’t want to throw him to the ground and mount him right now, and the touch was making him think too much about it.

Harry leaned on him in turn, and was quiet for a little while. Then he said, “Something that happened, that was unexpected, but was lucky in some ways. And something we need to understand and live with.”

“That sounds so neutral,” Draco whispered. It was a good thing to keep his voice low, he thought, just like the flickering of the fire. “Can you accept it like that? Can you—Harry, I don’t know what you _want_.”

“To live inside the bond,” Harry answered at once, turning around so that they were looking into each other’s eyes instead of leaning on each other. “To be…human’s the wrong word. But that’s what I meant. I know you’ve been changed a lot by becoming a Veela, Draco. And we’ve both been changed by the bond. But I don’t want to give up every trace of what we are for the bond.”

“You _want_ me to be the prick that I was to you in Hogwarts?” Draco asked in astonishment.

Harry grinned at him. “No, I’m content to see that version of you gone forever. But you were polite to me before the harpies attacked, and you were practical when you told me about the spell that would transform you. Can we try for _that_? Practicality, sometimes being apart. If only later after the bond has calmed down a bit and you don’t think I’m in danger all the time,” he added, probably because of what he’d seen in Draco’s face.

Draco embraced him with one arm and one wing. “I’m frightened,” he murmured to Harry. He could say it if he wasn’t looking at him. That lessened the bond’s urge to hold strong for his mate.

“Of what?”

“Of this mattering more to me than you. About what will happen when we get to Asovima. And when we get back to our world. And what people will say. Your friends, and my family, and—everyone.” Draco flinched as he thought of his mother’s cutting words. _You couldn’t find some other solution than Harry Potter? Or you couldn’t hold out until you reached Asovima and they could find you a different mate?_

“I can’t promise what everyone else will think.” Harry’s voice was so thick with calm determination that Draco had to remember the way he’d cast the spell, the way he’d saved both himself and Draco—and committed their lives to something different—with such aplomb. “I can promise that I will always take this seriously and always treat you well.”

Draco sighed softly and said, “Then—I can promise that I’ll try to let you go into danger. And take care of me in turn. And stand up for me.” He flicked the feathers on the edge of his wing gently against Harry’s cheek, and added, “I think it’ll probably get easier once the bond is a little older.”

“But before then, we need to face the Veela of Asovima.”

Draco shivered a little. “Yes,” he said, and turned his gaze back to the fire.

After a short moment, Harry took his hand, and they sat like that in silence for a time before they fell asleep.

*

Harry blinked and reached up to rub his eyes. But the sight remained the same in front of him: slender silver towers bound with gleaming white vines and blue flowers, a glittering contrast.

And the city was floating.

“I’m not hallucinating, am I?” he muttered to Draco out of the corner of his mouth, as Draco dropped to a stop beside him. He’d been flying ahead for a time to scout, and had come back and been flying escort since he’d spotted Asovima.

“No. It’s floating.” Draco landed beside him and looked thoughtfully up at the city. “I suppose their mates must be mostly other Veela, or else they don’t mind carrying them around.”

Harry nodded. “Can you carry me easily?” They hadn’t tried it as just regular flying so far, only when they were in danger or—having sex. Harry coughed and hoped that his flushed cheeks wouldn’t betray what he was thinking about too easily.

Draco’s eyes sparked for a moment, but then he inclined his head and said, “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Harry studied the city one more time, then straightened his shoulders and made sure that his wand was firmly tucked into his sleeve. He didn’t want to drop it when Draco tugged him upwards. “All right. Did you spot any guards? Or were there some and they let you go?”

“There are some there, I’m sure, but they didn’t show themselves to me,” Draco said calmly as he tucked his hands under Harry’s armpits. “They probably want to wait and see what I intend.”

“What _we_ intend.”

Draco grinned at him suddenly. “Of course. And if they try to insist again that we don’t belong together and that a real Veela deserves another mate, then I’ll set them right.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if summoning the strength, and then his wings beat strongly, blurred, and launched them from the ground.

Harry gasped. It was the first time he’d really had the chance to concentrate on the _details_ of their flight, instead of worrying about what would grab him from beneath the river water or whether all their opponents were dead. And it was odd, jolting, up-and-down motions while the silver wings dipped around him.

Draco’s fingers were clamped under his arms like iron bands. Harry cleared his throat and murmured, when Draco looked down at him, “I think next time, I’d like you to hold onto my ribs. This is uncomfortable.”

Draco blinked, nodded, and tossed him up and then dropped him. Harry’s heart and stomach dropped out of his body at the same time.

Harry was already reaching for his wand to cast a Cushioning Charm when Draco snatched him again, this time holding him along his ribs. Harry stared up at his face. “What the _fuck_ was that?” He thought the experience deserved the word.

Draco smiled at him. “I don’t want my mate to be uncomfortable. That means that I have to take steps to correct his discomfort right away.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. He thought, he was almost sure… “You did that _on purpose._ Not because you had to.”

Draco’s smile turned into more of a grin. “You wanted me to be more human. Am I doing a good job so far?”

“Git,” Harry muttered, and rolled his eyes, but he could feel a grin tugging at his own lips as Draco spiraled up towards the city.

*

Draco felt his wings stiffen a little as he saw the first Veela arrowing towards them. But he made sure to keep his flapping smooth and strong. He wasn’t going to drop his mate, or give him discomfort that wasn’t a joke.

And he had no idea if these Veela would be automatically hostile or not.

The pair pulled up and circled over them for a second. They were both women, with long silver hair, white toga-like garments, and matched necklaces of amethysts around their necks. Draco had a moment to wonder if that marked them as mates before he felt _it_.

 _It_ was an odd sensation. Draco could half-see a shimmering silvery link stretching between the two women, and half-feel it, as if they held a gauzy cloth that was brushing against his face and arms. The women were mated. He knew that for a mating bond, even though he’d never sensed it before.

And they would be able to sense the same thing between him and Harry.

Only a moment after that thought, Draco lifted his head proudly. So what? He was _proud_ of his bond to Harry. Harry had suggested yesterday that they might pretend to be an Auror and a messenger on a mission, at least at first, but Draco had stared him into silence.

Then Draco had pointed out the two Veela he’d already met would have told everyone about them anyway. But the _truth_ was that he wasn’t going to hide Harry.

The two women circled only once. Then one of them turned and flew back to the city so fast that she didn’t even appear to Draco to flap her wings. The other one turned and dropped towards them.

Draco found his feathers crackling with flames. He opened his mouth and silently hissed. The Veela woman seemed to understand and pulled up far short of them, certainly far enough away that she couldn’t touch Harry. She gave them both short, separate bows.

“You are a transformed Veela, from another dimension,” she said, looking at Draco. Her eyes were huge and crystalline and seemed to take up most of her face. She looked at least a little different from the others Draco had seen, which made him wonder if there was more variety in born than transformed Veela, for some reason. “And you are the one who was going to guard him.”

“His mate now.”

Harry’s voice was soft and unruffled. Draco wanted to hug him. That would be a little undignified in mid-air, though, so he simply hovered, and after a moment, the Veela woman nodded and said, “Tell me your names so that I may announce them.”

“Draco Malfoy.”

“Harry Potter.”

The Veela woman looked at them hard, as if she recognized Harry’s name. But before Draco could ask if she did, she had turned and was stroking hard back to the city, just like her mate.

“Do you think that was a bad sign?” Harry muttered in his arms, his head tilting back so that his lips rested right below Draco’s chin.

Draco kissed him quickly and shook his head. “I have no idea. And I don’t know if it’s significant that she didn’t give her name or not.” Then he flew in her wake, and watched the towers of the shining, floating city come towards them with a shiver in the bottom of his stomach.

_This is it. What are they going to tell us?_

*

Everything was so _bright_.

There were things on the towers that reflected sunlight. Harry wasn’t sure if they were veins of metal or the marble itself or maybe mirrors that were buried so deep in the stone he couldn’t see their edges. Or maybe the flowers. But sunlight flashed back dazzlingly and constantly, until Harry had to shade his eyes just to escape the constant afterimages.

From under his hand, he could see better. The towers all seemed to be built around courtyards. If Harry looked down into them, he could see crescent-shaped plots of grass—or he assumed it was grass. It was silver, and blue, and white, and blue-green like the waters of the river they’d crossed, and basically any color but normal green. The flowers were enormous and bell-shaped and also any pale color, down to some extremely faint rose and golden shades that Harry had to admit were pretty, and made it look like the towers they grew on were bathed in sunset.

The ground, or platform, or whatever it was that the floating city stood on was apparently made of glass; at least, it was pretty hard to see against the sky. Harry could see trees twining like snakes up the towers behind the vines, glittering with silver needles. Now and then a huge butterfly—Harry saw ones with wingspans at least as large as both his cupped palms together—would take off and flap to another vine.

And the Veela coasted past them, and stared at them, and played in the gardens with wings clapping behind them, and petted butterflies and birds on their shoulders, and stood on balconies tilting mirrors and planks of marble at each other in some game Harry didn’t know.

The smell of flowers and probably other things was everywhere, as sweet as water after thirst, as thick as butter.

Harry shook his head sharply. They’d received briefings about this in the Auror Department: the dimension they were going to was dangerous, but the Veela enclaves themselves were actively hypnotic. Someone who was pure human could go to them and gape and lose themselves forever among the towers. He couldn’t let himself fall into that kind of trance.

They were both going to need all their wits about them.

Draco swooped past one of the towers and aimed straight at one that had a flat roof. Harry wondered for a second how he’d known where to go, and then saw the welcoming committee of several Veela staying there. Draco braked gently with his wings and landed in front of them, bowing his head a little.

 _Well,_ Harry thought as he stepped away from Draco and made sure that his hand was on his wand, _at least I_ hope _they’re a welcoming committee, instead of something else._

The two women who had looked at them outside the city were there, and so was a tall man with wings and hair and eyes all of pale blue. Harry thought his skin might be pale enough to have a sheen of it. He stared at them in silence. Draco was quiet, too. His hands remained hovering over Harry’s ribs. Harry knew he would snatch him up and be gone if one of the other Veela made a threatening gesture in any way.

“Perfect mates,” said the blue-eyed Veela at last. “Remarkable.”

One of the women who stood behind him, who had pale brown hair, leaned forwards and whispered something. The man nodded. “Very true. Will you be welcome to Asovima?” he went on in the same tone, so Harry wasn’t sure at first that he was actually talking to them. “My name is Caleigh. These are—”

The names came so quickly that Harry lost track of them. He did memorize that the silver-haired woman who had questioned them was Jenara and the brown-haired one was Talai. He stood with his wand in his hand all the while.

Draco bowed his head a little again, and said, “I am Draco, and I have come with a message for you—”

“Yes, but that can wait for tomorrow,” said Caleigh abruptly. “Testing your bond cannot.”

Draco’s head snapped up, and his hands formed into fists that Harry could feel pressing against his ribs. He took a step backwards, trying to warn Draco with a subtle shake of his head, but Draco snapped, “What do you _mean_?”

“You are perfect in fit,” said Caleigh. “That does not happen often. We wish to see why it happened now, especially since our scouts have told us that you were not a Veela originally and this happened to be the one human left of your escort. We wish to check for the presence of forbidden magic, to make sure that you did not delve into blood sacrifice to ensure this.”

Draco opened his mouth to scream, but Harry said simply, “Is the testing going to hurt us?”

Caleigh turned to him, and cocked his head. “It will involve separating you and an examination, that is all. You should be back together again by tomorrow morning. Unless we find traces of the magic, of course. But in that case, you will not want to be together again in any case. That kind of spell creates a delusion of fitness in the mate’s mind. Freed from that, you will no longer believe that your Draco is anything but abominable.”

Harry reached back and grasped Draco’s arms as he tried to close them around Harry and send them hurtling back into the sky. “How urgent is the message you brought?” he asked quietly over his shoulder.

Draco struggled for a moment, his wings chopping and curving back. Then he said, “Urgent. But—”

“Then we do this. We know exactly what our bond consists of,” Harry added, to forestall another loud shriek. “We know that _we’re_ not guilty. Just go through with it, Draco.” He turned around and smiled. “And then we can prove to more people exactly how well-matched we are.”

Draco smoothed out the line of his mouth and closed his eyes. Harry waited. He would either agree or he wouldn’t.

Finally, Draco nodded. But he made sure to speak to Harry, and not to the other Veela, when he said, “Very well. I consent to the test.”


	11. The Test of Separation

Harry looked around the room the Veela had showed him into. It was the very highest floor of a tower, with high, narrow, glass-less windows and a thin door that towered over him into an arch and glistened like blue ice. The only furniture was a low bed with a dip in the middle of it that was obviously meant to cradle someone with wings. Harry conjured a pillow and looked around for a sign of the bathroom.

No sign. _I suppose I’ll just have to piss out the window, then._ But until he wanted to do that, he was going to raise protective barriers and make sure that no one could just toss something in at him.

He’d cast about three spells when someone knocked on the blue door. Harry turned his head, but even though the door was almost transparent, all he could tell about the Veela on the other side was that they were tall.

“Yes?” he called, and cast another protective spell. This one spread along his skin, everywhere it was exposed from his robes: wrists, palms, fingers, face, and hair. Perhaps he wouldn’t need it. But as his instructors in the Auror training program said all the time, better not to need it and have it than the other way around.

The Veela responded in a low, breathy voice that didn’t sound familiar to Harry from the Veela they’d met so far. “They granted me permission to come and speak to you. My name is Elentaeri.”

Harry waited, but she didn’t open the door, so he strode over and opened it himself. The Veela woman outside looked at him with shimmering blue eyes, and then cast down her gaze and bowed. Her silver wings made it graceful. She wore what seemed to be a blue dress, but it flowed and draped around her like a cloth on a statue, and had no seams or buttons that Harry could see.

“Why are you here?” Harry asked.

“May I come in?”

Harry stepped back and let Elentaeri in, but he still eyed her as she stooped, then turned around in the middle of the room and let her wings spread and light flash from them. He blinked a little. Yes, they were dazzling; they reminded him of the bells and gongs and flowers he’d seen on the way in. But he didn’t know what she was doing here, and suspicion prevented him from appreciating the beauty _or_ relaxing.

“Why are you here?”

“I know that you are mated currently,” Elentaeri began, her voice slow and sweet. “And until the bond dissolves, you cannot voice your interest in someone else. But I want you to know that I am unmated, and I felt a pull towards you when I saw you fly overhead. It is takes a long time to find a perfect mate. You deserve to be courted and respected. If you wish to stay here and take a new Veela mate when your old bond dissolves, I am available.”

“I’m not interested. Leave.”

Elentaeri’s eyes widened until they seemed about to overflow her face like pools of water. “But I felt the pull. That could not be if you were only interested in male mates or if you did not care for Veela.”

“I am _already_ mated,” Harry said, and felt as though he’d like to reach out and slap her pretty face until she woke up. “My bond is not going to dissolve. It’s a real one. Go away and stop making a fool of yourself.”

Elentaeri looked as if she had lost all the blood in her face, if she had any at all. She put a hand to her throat and swayed. Harry would reckon that no one had ever told her to stop being a fool. She shook her head once and said, “You are cruel.”

“You wouldn’t think that if you could see yourself,” Harry said. “Do you _know_ how much I care about Draco? You can’t. You can’t feel that, or you never would have come here.”

“But you mated fast. I heard the story. He was not a Veela before a few days ago. That means it cannot be a true bond.”

“Maybe that just means that you’re too particular,” Harry said sweetly, and gestured with his wand. The door banged open again. “Out you go.”

Elentaeri did, but she kept moving with her head turning back so that her eyes were always fixed on him. Harry kept the harsh expression on his face. Honestly, they couldn’t even wait until _after_ the test? If they were so sure that his bond would break and that he deserved to be courted and respected, why not wait?

_Because they must not be so sure after all. They want to try and change my mind just in case it doesn’t happen._

Harry snorted and stalked over to flip the door shut again. He might have hesitated and felt bad about hurting Elentaeri’s feelings, but honestly, it wasn’t much different than the young witches (and occasional wizard) at home who had thought they were in love with him because of his fame. He had practice in dealing with people who thought he was something he wasn’t.

_And I’ll deal with any others the same way. Although I hope that she’ll tell them how—unreceptive—I am. And that might mean I don’t get any other visitors._

*

“You cannot believe that you’ve found your perfect mate.”

Draco ate a delicate slice of the meat in front of him—the Veela of Asovima apparently favored meat and fruit and bread cut so thin as to be translucent—before he responded. “Yes, I can believe it.”

Caleigh sighed and sat back. “When you have lived as long as I, and seen so many young Veela who think someone they have known for two months is their perfect mate, then perhaps you will have my point-of-view.”

“Yes, perhaps I would have,” Draco said. “But I am not your age, and I have no intention of separating from my mate simply to—what? _Possibly_ find someone who _might_ suit me better? I do not understand what you intend with this test.”

“I intend to give you the best mate possible. The best chance. There might be someone here who would be appropriate for you—”

“I have someone better than _appropriate_ in Harry.”

Caleigh said nothing for some moments. Draco leaned back and looked around the softly lit and gleaming dining room they sat in. There were windows everywhere, framed with curtains of silver and white and pale blue, and the walls were only a few shades of blue deeper. Breezes heavy with the scent of flowers, but brisk and light, blew through the windows and whipped the curtains back and forth. The table itself sat beneath floating globes of crystal filled with delicate light, whiter than the candles Draco was used to. The cutlery gleamed like purest silver, although it felt like wood.

And the Veela were everywhere, quiet and beautiful and delicate. Draco felt heavy and awkward among them, although he knew he had the same body and facial structure since the spell that had changed him.

“I have seen so many young Veela whose bonds shatter,” said Caleigh, and drew Draco’s eye back. He was sipping what looked like water, except that it sparkled more like the crystalline globes, from a goblet of snowy metal. “I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. The test has become standard for anyone who bonds with a mate after less than a year of acquaintance.”

“But I’ve known him for fourteen years,” Draco said, frowning a little. Had that part not come across clearly in the conversations they’d had so far? He’d thought it had. “Since we were eleven.”

A dozen forks halted in the same movement, and all the Veela on the other side of the table stared at him. Probably the ones on his side were doing the same thing. Draco lifted his chin and spread his wings in defiance.

“You did not mention that,” Caleigh said.

“I told you that we had been at school together,” Draco said tightly. “And I told you that we had been—”

“Enemies for years.” Jenara, the silver-haired Veela who had questioned them on their flight in, leaned forwards. Her mate overlapped her wings with one of her own wings, but Jenara paid no attention. “You cannot expect us to believe that you were enemies for years and then just _happened_ to find each other as perfect mates.”

“No. I didn’t go out looking for a mate. I had no idea that my wounds would force me to transform. But I’m saying that it’s not so strange that we would know each other well enough to be compatible mates.”

There was more exchanging of glances, and Caleigh finally said, with a twitch of his pale blue wings, “It is still too much of a coincidence for me that you would enact a temporary bond with an enemy and have it turn into a permanent one.”

“For you, maybe. But that’s what happened.”

Conversation fell silent for a while after that, as some of the Veela exchanged glances that didn’t include him and others went back to eating and a few asked him about being a human. Draco answered their questions only until he realized that they were talking about it as if being human was a disease with thrilling symptoms. He ate quietly himself after that, and stood up when the rest of them did.

“Tomorrow, at dawn,” Caleigh told him, “the test will begin.”

Draco nodded. He considered making it lower, more like a bow, because it was obvious that most of the Veela here respected Caleigh and considered him their leader, but he didn’t want to. After a second, Caleigh and Jenara and a few of the others turned away.

A male Veela, more heavyset than most of the others Draco had seen, took a long step towards him. Draco studied him. His hair was silver and his eyes were aqua, and Draco supposed he was pretty in an exotic way.

But then he realized that he was only looking into those aqua eyes for shades of green that reminded him of Harry, and he smiled. The man came to a stop and gave him a long glance, then a faint smile in return.

“There are Veela looking for mates who might interest you,” he said. “The others are concentrating on whether different Veela might interest your human mate, but there are some who can appreciate beauty when they see it.”

“I’m so glad,” Draco said. “Then you know how beautiful my mate is. I’m honored you think so. Good night.”

He stepped out of the dining room, ignoring the movement of the man’s reaching arm behind him, and soared towards the tower they’d given him a room in. It was a low one, only halfway up, and with a narrow balcony. Draco thought that might be meant to be an insult.

He honestly didn’t care. He wanted tomorrow to come, and the test to come. He knew he and Harry would pass.

Not because he really knew what the test was like, or that the Veela of Asovima would be fair. They would pass because he utterly _refused_ to let anything else happen.

*

Harry stood with his arms folded and his wand tucked in his sleeve on a platform on top of the highest tower he had seen yet. Jenara had woken him up not long before dawn and brought him here.

This platform was flat, bare, and open on all sides. Harry was glad that he wasn’t afraid of heights. He kept his gaze fixed on the brown-haired woman, Talai, who had been behind Caleigh yesterday. Draco stood on the other side of the platform from him, his gaze heated as it bored into Harry. Talai stood between them.

“You have been selected for the test of separation,” Talai said, her voice high-pitched and soft but somehow still audible above the whistling of the wind. “We will see if your bond is a true one. Bonds created with forbidden blood magic cannot survive this test.” She turned and faced Draco. “Spread your wings.”

Draco did it without taking his eyes from Harry. Harry was sure he saw Talai’s shoulders twitch with annoyance. He bit back a smile. Well, it was their fault for insisting on this stupid test in the first place.

_It has at least as much to do with unmated Veela among them wanting mates as it does with us._

“You are to cut the palm of your hand with one of your nails,” Talai went on, and several of the Veela hovering around the platform leaned forwards. “Turn and make sure that at least three drops of blood hit the platform.”

Draco did that. Harry didn’t know if he had blinked yet. His hand wriggled back and forth for a second, and the blood tumbled out of the small cut. Harry hissed under his breath. He didn’t like seeing someone wounded without being able to do something about it.

“Mate, you are not to interfere.”

Harry rolled his eyes. They must not think much of humans. He had more self-control than that. For example, he hadn’t told them yet what idiots they were all being.

Draco lifted his hand to his lips and licked the wound clean, unblinking still. Harry smiled at him and listened as Talai said, “Now, Veela, you will take flight. Mate, you will try to cross the platform and mingle your own blood with the Veela’s. The test has been failed if your blood reacts badly, if a wind arises to hold you back, or if you touch before the tester has declared the ritual complete.”

 _That must be the trick of it,_ Harry thought, as he watched Draco take off. He didn’t retreat more than a meter from the platform, hovering with long sweeps of his wings as though nothing mattered but keeping in one place, and his eyes were still on Harry. _The Veela and the mate don’t like to see each other bleeding._

Harry gave Draco a smile and began walking forwards. Talai stepped aside if she didn’t want to be contaminated by the touch of his hands. Harry ignored her. Draco was the important thing right now, and Draco was hovering ahead of him.

And winging swiftly in towards the platform.

“No,” Harry said. He kept his voice calm, not a shout, and saw the way that Draco managed to check himself, his wings slanting backwards for a second. “You don’t need to touch me, Draco. That will happen when we’ve proven that we’re compatible.”

Draco hissed. Harry nodded. “Yes, I know. It’s stupid that we have to go through with this in the first place,” he said, ignoring the reactions of the Veela gathered around the platform. “But we’ll be done with it quickly enough. See?” He was already halfway across the platform, walking steadily. “It’ll be all right.”

Draco slowly slid back until he was at about half the distance he’d been originally. He watched fiercely as Harry came over to the puddle of blood and looked down at it. Harry laid his wand on his palm. “ _Diffindo_ ,” he said.

His blood began to trickle out. Harry turned his hand so that it could mingle with the tiny pool Draco had left on the platform.

There was a whoosh above his head, and Harry instinctively dropped into a crouch. Draco’s reaching hand missed his shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes and shouted up at him, “I know it’s hard, but they _want_ us to fail! Stay back so that we can avoid gratifying all these miserable bastards!”

That got him even more reactions, but Harry kept his gaze locked on Draco. Draco flew higher and waited, his lips a slash in his face like a badly-carved mouth on a statue.

Harry shook his head and looked down at the puddle of their blood. It lay there. He turned his head towards Talai, who had come up on his right side. “Well? Do we pass the test? What is it supposed to do if it’s a bad reaction?”

Talai stared at their blood with bulging eyes. “How is this possible?” she hissed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, because I have no idea what a bad reaction is,” Harry said, and stood up. He was impressed with Draco’s self-control, since he was still hovering beyond the platform. The end of the test hadn’t been declared yet, and Draco understood that even in his anger. Harry was the one who faced Talai and put his back to the edge of the platform. “What? Was our blood supposed to bubble like a potion and make a rose bloom from it or something?”

Talia simply chopped her wings in and out. Then she turned and launched herself off the edge of the platform. Harry tensed, but she passed Draco by without trying to hurt him. He turned back, seeking Caleigh.

The blue-haired Veela was moving towards him, holding his hands out. “The test is passed,” he called. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are indeed true bonded mates.”

Harry exhaled carefully and lifted his arms. He was just in time to catch Draco as he came slanting down, and Harry hugged him, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder. Draco hissed at the other Veela in attendance.

Caleigh stood quietly in place, his eyes intent. Harry shook his head at him. “What did you _think_ would happen?”

“Either that the blood would turn black, showing that you had used Dark magic to seal the bond, or that a wind would arise and keep you from walking across the platform,” said Caleigh simply. “That would have been the magic of our world keeping both of you from binding yourself to someone less than perfectly matched. But instead, it seems that the bond you told me about it is indeed strong.” He bowed his head. “Have tonight to rest. We will listen to your message in the morning.”

He was smiling as he flew away, but most of the Veela weren’t. Harry was sure that he saw Elentaeri whispering with a few other women.

Draco didn’t seem to notice. He grasped Harry’s face, nuzzled at him, and then said, “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Harry laughed a little as Draco dragged him to the edge.

“To _privacy_ ,” Draco said, and grabbed Harry around his ribs and flew. Harry turned his head in time to see more faces tilt back, following them like white flowers rising to a strange sun.

 _Let them,_ Harry thought, as he settled more firmly into Draco’s arms. _This bond isn’t something I anticipated ever having, but I wouldn’t give it up now._


	12. Reunion

“ _There_ you are.”

Harry smiled as he turned around from casting Obscuring Charms over the windows in the little room he’d been given. Draco had insisted on going back there instead of staying in the tower room that he’d had last night. Harry thought maybe this room was more comfortable for a human.

Or easier to make private.

Draco slid towards him, his wings out and fluttering hard, his voice a croon so soft and high that Harry had trouble hearing it. Harry laid his wand aside on the windowsill and opened his arms.

In seconds, Draco was in them, his nose nudging Harry’s chin up. Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall willingly to the side. He could hear Draco’s harsh, unsteady breaths, and did his best to soothe him with light touches to Draco’s ribs. He didn’t want Draco to think too much about the test and possibly nearly losing him.

Draco touched his nose and his teeth and his tongue all along Harry’s neck, until Harry was squirming with impatience and clutching at him. Then he pulled back and said, “I want to undress you.”

“All right.” Harry stepped back and sprawled on the bed, his arms out. Draco started undoing his robes, staring into his eyes all the while.

Harry looked steadily back. The part of him that had feared Draco might get upset and want out of the bond once it was established trembled. Looking into Draco’s eyes was _overwhelming_. Fierce silver blaze, tinged with blue as if Harry was actually looking at flames, and to have someone look at him like that….

It wasn’t that Harry had never thought someone would look at him like that. Rather, people _had_ , and it had never ended well.

But he trusted Draco not to hurt him. He reached out and stroked the side of Draco’s face. Draco turned his head and licked Harry’s palm.

“Sit up,” he murmured, and Harry did so that Draco could get the robes out from under his shoulders and his arse. His eyes burned even harder as he looked Harry up and down.

Harry swallowed. Then he arched his hips forwards and offered himself to Draco, again because of his trust.

Draco made a noise that was considerably easier to hear, since it was so low and guttural, and grabbed at Harry, pulling him forcefully down on the bed. His hands yanked Harry’s pants down, and he fastened his mouth around Harry’s cock.

It felt as if Harry had put his cock inside someone else, except better. He cried out, and Draco responded to the sound with a croon that drove Harry’s lust higher. He reached down, grabbing, grasping, trying to work as much of Draco’s hair into his hold as he could. Draco turned his head and kissed Harry’s fingers with the corner of his mouth, then went right back to sucking on him.

Harry began thrusting with his hips again, driving himself helplessly towards climax. It was so _intense_. Every time he tried to catch his breath, Draco was there to croon at him. Every time he tried to say something, Draco kissing his hipbones stole his words. Every time he remembered that you weren’t supposed to hold someone’s hair during a blowjob and let go of it, Draco moved back in, and the silky strands tempted Harry too much _not_ to hang onto them.

There was no plateau. There was no letup. There was only Draco, demanding and pulling and crooning, and—

Harry leaped over the edge into his orgasm, crying out again and falling back on the bed because he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up. His hands let go of Draco’s hair again, but his back was bowing and his hips were shuddering and his heartbeat was going _mad_ , and Draco didn’t seem upset about it this time. He lazily leaned over to kiss Harry again, and his smile was bright and wet.

“Think you can return the favor?” he whispered.

“If you come up here, maybe.” Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this wrung-out; he managed to make his lips move, and that was about it.

_No, wait. The last time was the last time I had sex with Draco._

Draco kept that bright smile in place as he took his own clothes off, and then knelt on the bed, turning and balancing himself with careful wingbeats so that he didn’t tumble off the side and Harry didn’t have to stretch his neck too far. Harry still surprised a shout out of him when he got in the right position and swallowed him down.

“God, Harry,” Draco said, his gasps overlaying his words until they sounded tortured. “God.”

Then he went off into babbling, cooing, shrilling nonsense, and Harry just smiled and sucked. It felt easier to do than usual, maybe because he wasn’t worrying about how his partner would judge him. He just relaxed his jaws, and moved his tongue, and touched Draco in the right places with his fingers, and then Draco came, too, another almost-growl spilling out of him as his fingers tightened on Harry’s scalp.

Harry had to lift his head to swallow. He saw Draco swaying back and forth, but not actually falling because of his wings, and gazing at Harry in stupefied wonder.

“Out of all the Veela you could have bonded with,” Draco breathed, “you chose _me_.”

Harry wasn’t about to say there was no Veela he would rather have bonded with. Draco was trying to be romantic, and Harry wasn’t going to ruin that with realism right now. He made his muscles work and sat up the rest of the way, enough to kiss Draco and then yank him down. Draco only turned to make sure his wings were draped over the side of the bed and gathered Harry in his arms.

“And of all the mates you could have had,” Harry said with another yawn, “you preferred me.”

“Foolish,” Draco said, low and mumbling, so that Harry had to strain his ears to hear. “As if I would have chosen anyone else.”

*

Draco woke to a tapping on one of the windows that Harry had covered and Obscured. His first thought, absurdly, was an owl bearing a message. But then he remembered what it was more likely to be here, and his wings were already bristling around him as he stood and strode towards it.

He didn’t bother to put clothes on. He didn’t care about the other Veela seeing _him_ naked. Some of the things they had said yesterday had even given him the impression that it was the more natural state for them. But he was damned if anyone was going to peer past them and see his still-sleeping mate.

 _And isn’t that amazing?_ Harry was a trained Auror. He’d woken at the slightest sound when they were camping out in the open, trained to respond to enemies. Draco would also be surprised if he got a good sleep last night.

But with Draco next to him, protecting him, curled up around him, he trusted him enough to sleep through a sound that should have woken him up.

Draco wasn’t going to dishonor that trust.

When he opened the window, he saw a Veela who he knew had been at the test yesterday, but who he didn’t know, hovering there. She was another of the tall, thin, white-haired women that so many of the Asovima Veela seemed to be, her eyes a brilliant crystalline color that made them look as if they had no pupil. She nodded to him and said, “The gathered Circle will hear what message you have brought, Draco Malfoy.”

“It hasn’t been two hours since the test,” Draco said. His time-sense seemed to work much better in Asovima than it did elsewhere in this dimension, which probably shouldn’t be a surprise. “Is that all the time that you give a Veela and his mate who were separated from each other to reaffirm their bond?”

The woman blinked a little and spent a moment fanning her wings. Then she said, “I—did not think of it in that light. We thought your message was urgent.”

It was urgent in that the Ministry had had to have someone deliver it, but at the moment, Draco wasn’t inclined to admit that to any Veela of Asovima. “You can find it out later,” he said haughtily. “Tell Caleigh that I’ll speak to him at dinner. And I will have my mate with me.”

One moment more when he thought she might protest, and then she bowed her head and said, “It shall be so.” Draco waited to make sure that she stroked her wings and soared away through the air instead of lingering to eavesdrop before he closed the window.

He turned around to find Harry reclining on his elbow, watching Draco with a smile. Draco smiled back, letting his eyes run up and down the scars on Harry’s torso. The presence of them didn’t make him happy, but that Harry was relaxed enough in his presence to show them did.

“You’re sure that you want me with you when you deliver this message? The Aurors didn’t trust me to know what it was.”

Draco stepped slowly towards him, fluttering his wings as he came and watching smugly as Harry’s pupils dilated. He ended up kneeling on the bed beside him, sliding his hand over Harry’s shoulder and watching as he shivered.

“You’ve been remarkably patient about that message,” Draco finally said, when he was sure he could speak and he wouldn’t just end by throwing Harry on the bed and reaffirming their bond again. “You could have asked me. I would have told you.”

“I didn’t want to take advantage of our bond like that.”

“What?”

Harry caught his hand and entwined their fingers, holding their hands aloft between them. His gaze was soft as he regarded Draco. “You would have told me because you’re a Veela and I’m your mate. It’s not a fair advantage. And asking about it was stressed as being forbidden, anyway. I _want_ to know, but now that I’m going to be at dinner…”

Draco turned his head and rubbed his cheek gently along Harry’s. “I know how great your curiosity was in school. It must have been hard not to ask.”

“Well, not as hard as if we didn’t have the bond to adapt to and the constant struggle to survive in this dimension.”

“I’m still not going to thank that giant fish that almost killed you.”

“You don’t have to.” Harry pulled Draco towards him. “So, now I know we have some time until the meal. Why don’t we spend it more productively than asking each other questions that have painful answers?”

And Draco, stunned by how sensible his mate could be sometimes, agreed wordlessly, and made Harry glad that he’d asked _this_ question.

*

Harry still felt a little underdressed as he watched the Veela gliding around the large, sumptuous room. Even the ones who wore clothes that seemed to be merely scraps of cloth made that look more graceful and luxurious than his plain, functional Auror robes.

Draco tightened his hold on Harry’s arm, as if he knew what Harry was feeling. He probably did. Harry gave him a single, bright smile and stepped forwards. He would remember that few of these Veela could beat off a giant fish if they fell into the river where it lived.

And if their gazes lingered on him and Draco with disdain, he would remember how desperate some of them had been to act as if he and Draco didn’t have a good bond. They couldn’t go from desire to mate with them to utter contempt overnight. This was only lying to themselves.

Harry was familiar with that for the same reasons he was familiar with people looking at him with desire.

“Thank you for coming, Veela Malfoy.” Caleigh gave several of the others disapproving looks and stepped to the front of the room, which was lit with faint blue-green radiance that Harry thought made them look as if they were all swimming underwater. Caleigh bowed. “Would you rather eat, or give us the message, first?”

“The message has waited long enough.” Draco sounded more like his human self than he had in a while, his chin upraised and his eyes sparking. “It concerns the Veela who are living in France in the human world.”

Caleigh pursed his lips. “France. I thought that wizarding country was more tolerant of Veela than most.”

“It used to be. But there was a rash of murders last year by someone who was either a Veela or using a spell that let them mimic the powers of a Veela. Or perhaps several people.” Draco’s voice was full of distaste. “A prominent French Muggle died, along with many French wizards. The wizards there have grown wary of letting the Veela stay in the country.”

“Surely someone helped the wizards to find the murderer?”

“No. They remained silent on the topic and refused to let any Aurors look into their homes or visit their enclaves.”

“Of course they did,” said Jenara, her wings trembling with agitation. Harry saw her mate lean against her, and she did calm down a little, but her eyes were still large and luminous with something that wasn’t tears. “ _Outrageous_ , to let human magic-users near their children and their mates.” She gave Harry a look that he returned with a bland one.

“That means that relations between the French Veela and the French wizards are strained,” Draco continued. “They are petitioning you to be allowed to emigrate to this dimension. It doesn’t mean that they all want to live in Asovima,” he added, raising his voice above the sudden exclamations. “But they want help to move their homes and families, and some would like to live here if you allow it.”

Harry blinked. It made sense, now, why Draco had been asked to carry this message. He had family connections in France, he obviously had the Veela heritage even though no one had thought it would manifest, and he was a wizard who had some experience in dealing with Aurors.

He could see why Draco had been sworn to secrecy, too. There were plenty of British Aurors who would have tried to sabotage the mission on principle, because they thought the French Veela should have worked more closely with the Aurors in their own country.

Draco was actually glancing at him now out of the corner of his eye, as if he thought Harry would turn out to be one of those Aurors. Harry grinned and made a show of waggling his tongue. Draco flushed a brilliant rose color and turned back to the Veela in front of him.

“We cannot decide this issue if we shout,” said Caleigh, and that made some people shut up and direct their gazes to the floor. “It is a contentious one, though. There is little room in our enclaves, and this dimension is hard to live in if you do not know and understand the land and the creatures.”

“Perhaps help teaching, then?” Draco offered. “But they might not need much. I wasn’t a Veela before I came here, and I began to understand some of the things around me without any teaching.”

“That’s because you’re—” said someone behind Caleigh. Harry was just as glad that the Veela leader turned around and glared, cutting them off before Harry had to do something about them and their insults to Draco.

“We might be able to help them with that,” Caleigh acknowledged, turning back around. “But we shall have to discuss it, and frankly, I am not ready to have any of them settle in Asovima if they are sheltering a murderer.”

“But the humans wanted to peer into their _homes_!” Jenara’s wings were fanning back and forth now, hard enough that Harry felt some of the wind stir his hair. “How can you defend that, Caleigh?”

“I was not. I was only saying that I want to be sure they are not bringing us more trouble—”

“The Veela might have been defending their mate!”

Caleigh opened his mouth to argue, and Draco sighed a little. He signaled with one hand to Harry. Harry nodded. He agreed that for now, the Veela were going to argue and simply forget about them. He leaned against the wall next to Draco, and watched as several Veela jumped in on Jenara’s side of the argument, others tried to take up what Caleigh was saying, and others offered compromises that weren’t going to please anyone.

“What do you think about the message?” he asked quietly.

“I think it makes sense,” Draco said. “And if they _are_ hiding a murderer, then this dimension will at least be free of wizards for them to kill.” He draped his right wing around Harry. “But honestly? I don’t care as much as I did when the Ministry chose me for this mission. I want to go home and be with my mate and pass any tests that they have for us as easily as we passed the one here.”

Harry smiled and leaned against Draco. He supposed he could do nothing yet, unless someone required him to take a more active part in the debate.

_I can’t remember when the last time was that I was happy doing nothing._

_Draco is better for me than I realized._


	13. Debates, Positions

“You must have something to say in the matter of your mate’s message.”

It was Elentaeri again. This time, Harry knew to keep the door closed and the woman outside of the small room he and Draco had started sharing, the one the Veela had given to him that first night. If she came inside and sat on or touched anything, her scent would be everywhere. Draco tended to prowl around the room and rub his cheeks on things and drop feathers and dust to reassert his claim to the room when another Veela came to the window as it was.

_And his claim to me._

But thinking about that would make him blush in front of Elentaeri. Harry rested his elbows on the sill of the window and looked at her coolly. “Why should I?”

“You accompanied him as he carried it.” Elentaeri spread her wings further, somehow not disturbing the hover she was doing outside the window, and turned her head to the side. Harry had the idea she was trying to make her neck attractive. Too bad. He didn’t find necks attractive on anyone except Draco. “You risked your life to defend him.” Her voice lowered. “I would value any mate I had more than to leave him alone while I debated the matter with Caleigh.”

“So you would hover overhead and keep an eye on him every day? You don’t trust him?”

“Of course I would trust my mate.”

Harry smiled, both at the tremor he’d managed to introduce into her voice and the silvery-colored flush on her cheeks. “As Draco trusts me. He’ll tell me about the debate when he comes back. At the moment, I prefer not to be stared at by Veela who still don’t think that Draco and I are true mates.”

Elentaeri crossed her arms. “I know you’re true mates.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Someone can have more than one true mate. We have a range of people we’re compatible with, not just one. I assume it would be the same for humans. And that any Veela who was worthy of your devotion would let you _choose_ if you wanted to stay with him or mate with someone else.”

“Of course he would. That doesn’t mean I _want_ to. I want to be with Draco. I am. Go away.”

For a moment, Elentaeri’s wings shook so hard that he thought she really would attack him. But at last she broke the hover and soared off between the delicate towers. Harry shook his head. Veela were more stubborn than he’d thought, more stubborn than the ones he’d met the few times he’d been involved in investigations around crimes they’d committed.

“What makes her so drawn to me?” he muttered.

“Think about it,” Draco said, and slid through the window in such a rush that Harry was sure he’d been near enough to see Elentaeri leave. He didn’t pin Harry against the wall and maul his neck over it, though. He extended his wings and held them around Harry, sniffing him complacently. “You’re a pure human and a dangerous one. She won’t have met any here. You’re exotic.”

“You’d think she would be _more_ worried about me being a dangerous human, instead of less.”

“No, that increases her belief that you would fight and even kill to protect your mate.” Draco stretched his arms out to the tips of his fingers and wriggled them, in a way that Harry knew he could never tell him he found almost unbearably cute. “You’re not good at figuring out when people want you, are you?”

“When, I have no problem with. It’s _why_. Back in our world, there are people who wanted to date me for the fame and the prestige, and paid no attention to how the papers abused me regularly. I mean. _Why_ would they want to share my fame when that’s the price?”

“That’s going to stop when we go back home.”

“Of course I’m not going to flirt with them and encourage them! I never did—”

“I meant the numbers of people coming up and bothering you,” Draco said, and slid his cheek slowly over Harry’s neck and down onto his collarbone in a way that made Harry’s mind spark like the wheels on the Hogwarts Express. Meanwhile, Draco went on murmuring. “And the way that you talk about yourself.”

“I know perfectly well what I can do. I wasn’t saying I _wasn’t_ dangerous. Just that other people are stupid.”

Draco drew back and looked calmly into his ears. “It’s only been two years since the war, and you’ve only had two lovers.”

“Well, yes? I’m pretty monogamous, Draco. And I’d think you would be grateful for that,” Harry had to add in a bit of anger.

“I never meant that.” Draco slid his splayed fingers gently down the side of Harry’s nose. “I meant that you could have had a lot more if you wanted. And I know you’re monogamous. But you didn’t immediately find another person the minute you split from one.”

“Because I didn’t want to spend time with someone who just wanted to be photographed and giggle about it!”

“Because part of you is worried about what happens when someone becomes your lover,” Draco corrected quietly. “Because you have to worry about kidnapping attempts, don’t you, because there are still people out there who think that’s the best way to get to you? And you have to worry about fabricated stories and people following you around in hopes of getting a picture that isn’t fabricated.”

Harry jerked his head back. He had felt that way, sometimes in the quiet of the night, lying awake and wondering why he couldn’t have been born a normal person that people could love safely, but he’d _never_ told anyone that. And he knew Draco wouldn’t try to read it out of his mind without permission. “How—”

“It’s because I know you. I know you would feel that way.” Draco’s s fingers tightened in Harry’s hair for a second. “And you _shouldn’t_ , but I know that you can’t stop feeling that way overnight, either. We’re just going to teach each other how to feel like we’re worthy to be loved.”

Harry closed his eyes and said nothing for a long second. His mind had been filled mainly with the bad things that would happen to them when they left the Veela dimension to go back to their world. The people who wouldn’t understand. The sneers. The repercussions among the Aurors, who would wonder why Harry survived when everyone else couldn’t.

But there were going to be so many good things, too. Harry hadn’t envisioned a _mate_ , but he had envisioned someone who would stay with him for the rest of his life, and not care about the newspapers, and not care that they would have to share him with the public sometimes. That person had never worn a face. He couldn’t imagine the one who would stand beside him that easily.

But they’d always had a tone in their voice. And it had sounded like Draco’s.

“You look like you’re about to faint, Harry.”

Harry forced his eyes open, and didn’t have to force a smile. “It’s a little startling to watch your dreams all come true at once.”

Draco’s eyes widened, and his hand trembled this time as he reached out and touched Harry’s cheek. “I remember—reading one of those stupid dreadful articles when you broke up with Corner, about how unromantic you were. It was one of the things he complained about.”

Harry nodded with difficulty. Michael had only given one interview after they separated, and he’d apologized to Harry and not given another one. But Harry could remember every word of that one as if it was branded on his heart.

“I didn’t know Corner well in school.” Draco moved a step closer to Harry, his hand rising to cup the back of Harry’s neck. “But now I can say, with deep and focused consideration, that he’s a fucking idiot.”

Harry burst out laughing, and if the laughter was a little watery, well, Draco would understand and forgive him. Draco shaded him with his wings, smiling, and touched Harry with his feathers and his fingers and then his mouth.

“Come to bed,” Draco said softly. “We’ve resisted and overcome so many things. I think we can do this, too. But I don’t want to talk about it for a while.”

Harry nodded and followed him gratefully to the bed. And Draco showed him how it could be when neither of them were starving for it: slow, intense, beautiful, graceful.

Harry fell asleep smiling, knowing Draco would watch over him.

*

“We have considered the French Veela’s request. And I do not mind telling you, Veela Malfoy, that there has been considerable disagreement between us about whether we should admit any of them to our dimension.” Caleigh pursed his lips and gave Draco a long glance, as if he wanted him to ask questions.

But at the moment, Draco didn’t see anything to ask questions about. He was once again standing in the long room where the Veela had gathered in front of him and Harry and he had told them his message. He stood now with one wing around Harry’s shoulders. Harry needed to bend a bit to maintain the posture, but he didn’t complain.

“I can understand why it would be a matter of consideration.”

Seeming a little baffled, Caleigh looked around at his people. “In the end, we came up with two arguments. I shall now ask a major proponent of each view to present their side’s words.”

Draco held back his sigh as two people came forwards. One of them was Jenara, the woman who had questioned him and Harry outside the city. She at least looked calmer than the last time he had seen her, and walked with her head held high.

The other was Elentaeri. Draco knew her by her scent and the way her wings moved, and he gave a little hiss. She showed him a motionless face, with a flicker in her eyes when she stared at Harry. Then she faced Caleigh on the opposite side of his chair from Jenara.

“Jenara, you will present your side first, as the older Veela.”

Jenara only inclined her head, although Draco would have hissed at the insult. “Very well, Caleigh. I vote that we do not accept any of the French Veela into Asovima. Yes, they are our cousins, but very distantly. They will also have many people around them who will try to get their way as they must often have done in the human world, simply because they could use their gifts to manipulate the humans as they cannot other Veela. We are already having trouble making sure that everyone gets a sane amount of privacy and room in the towers. Do we really want to bring hundreds more people here?”

“A reasonable statement,” Caleigh said, nodding. Draco was surprised at how much he agreed. While he did hope that at least some of the French Veela would find a home elsewhere, he could admit Jenara had a point. “And Elentaeri?”

Elentaeri glanced over her shoulder as if she wanted to make sure Harry was watching. Harry was, of course. Elentaeri simpered. Draco thought of rolling his eyes and telling her that she was an idiot given that Harry of course would watch the source of the action, but he didn’t bother. Nothing was going to get through the skull of a young Veela who tried to disrupt a perfect bond.

Elentaeri spread her wings as if that would make her even more attractive instead of annoying, and spoke in a wispy voice. “I think those Veela can be valuable to us for their very differences. We all know how few young Veela in the last few years have found a perfect match—”

From the way Caleigh stiffened, that was something he would prefer that their visitors not know. Draco only raised his eyebrows a little. Maybe it could be perfectly shattering to some of the Veela cities _here_ , but it wouldn’t mean anything back in his world.

_Unless I have to carry a certain kind of message back._

“And importing more strangers who are not as closely related to us could help with the problem that might be a problem of too much shared blood.” Elentaeri lowered her eyes and stood there, fanning her wings demurely. “Of course we would need to make some room for them. But there might be enough of us then to found another city. Don’t you think there’s at least a chance of that?” She clasped her hands together and glanced around as if support would come swelling on currents to bear her up like wind.

_Also a reasonable statement, if the person she was coveting at the moment was a stranger Veela instead of my mate._

“There is much in what you both say,” Caleigh said, and sighed. He struck Draco as the kind of Veela who would like everything to go one way, to be spared the agony of a decision. “Very well. We will vote. Who agrees with Jenara that bringing the French Veela here would be costly and dangerous for us?”

What looked to Draco like most of the Veela raised their left wings. On the other hand, he couldn’t see all of the room from where he stood. He arched his eyebrows a little. If there really were young Veela here who couldn’t find perfect mates, he would have expected more to agree with Elentaeri.

“And those who agree with Elentaeri that we can make a life with these strangers, and they may even benefit us?”

This time, there was more of a rustle as more wings rose, and Draco realized there were more people standing behind him. He gritted his teeth so that he could keep calm. He didn’t like the thought of them attacking his unprotected back, but Harry was there, and he would have his wand ready. Draco wasn’t truly unprotected.

And it seemed as though his message had achieved its hoped-for task, and the French Veela would receive invitations to Asovima.

_Good. The sooner we can leave here and I can carry good news back to the Aurors, the sooner we can start dealing with the troubles of the world we understand again._

“Thank you for your arguments, Jenara, Elentaeri,” Caleigh said, and again he sounded a little harried. “Will you please make one final statement about your perception of the vote?”

“I cannot be surprised that it’s mostly the young who support such a risky plan,” Jenara said, shaking her head so her silvery hair tumbled about her face. “The young do like to take risks and fall from a great height. I can only hope that our towers and our traditions will not fall with them.”

“How typical of an already mated Veela to not understand why we want a greater variety of choice in our possible partners.” Elentaeri’s neck twitched for a second, but she didn’t turn and look back at Harry, something that really surprised Draco. He hadn’t thought she would have that much self-control. “I will make sure that our towers do not fall in our quest to _continue_ our traditions.”

“Thank you both.” Caleigh nodded to both of them, and Jenara turned and walked back to her mate. Elentaeri turned around and sought Harry’s eyes.

Draco followed her gaze, to find that Harry was already looking steadily at Draco himself. Harry’s mouth twitched a little, and he cocked his head. “Do you want to go back to our room, Draco? And when do you want to leave Asovima?”

“Excuse me, Veela Malfoy and—and mate,” Caleigh said, sounding a little flustered again. _Probably because there’s no title that’s the equivalent of Veela for a human,_ Draco thought, turning back to him. “We still need to discuss timelines for this. And how many Veela you intend to bring back at a time. And when you yourselves will be returning to Asovima, to help them settle in…”

Draco wanted to groan. He would prefer not to come back to a place where people pitied him and plotted to steal his mate. But he nodded, because that was the mission, and said, “Yes, we should discuss that.”

Harry squeezed his hand. Draco found himself straightening enough to take his wing away from Harry’s shoulders. Well, Harry would know all about that sense of mission, having been on enough of them for the Aurors.

“I think you could use my help,” said Elentaeri, sounding like a feathery cat as she came swishing around in front of Caleigh’s seat. “After all, I was the one appointed to speak for the side of those who want our cousins to come to this dimension. And I am afraid that we will not be free of opposition yet, for all that the majority _clearly_ wants the chance to acquire new mates.”

Draco turned and looked at her. She paused mid-step as she got a clear look into his eyes. Then she swallowed and turned the step into a backwards one.

Caleigh was either oblivious or wisely pretending to be. “You are right, of course, Elentaeri. Would you mind having dinner in my tower this evening, Veela Malfoy, and Elentaeri, and—your mate, Veela Malfoy?”

“Of course,” Draco said, his eyes lingering on Elentaeri. He was sure that Harry, next to him, was glaring as impressively. “We should always get to know our allies.”


	14. Working With Elentaeri

“I think bringing the French Veela through is a mistake.”

“So you’ve said,” Harry murmured, keeping his back to Jenara as he moved two of the chairs closer together. He’d arrived in the work room ahead of Draco, who’d said he wanted to talk to Caleigh, and found four chairs equally spaced around the small table. Aligning two of them together would hopefully keep any explosions from happening. Now he and Draco would be in touching distance of each other.

“And you working with a young Veela so obsessed with making you her mate is a mistake.”

“What would you have me do? I won’t abandon my own mate because someone else is making a mistake.”

“You don’t have to be in the negotiations, though,” Jenara said, wrinkling her brow as though she didn’t understand why Harry wasn’t bowing before her in gratitude. “You’re not a Veela and you have no standing to say that you know the French community.”

“Maybe not. But Draco will be calmer with me there. What do you think Elentaeri will do if I’m not?”

“Come hunting you?” Jenara made it a question, still frowning a little.

“Irritate Draco to the point that he might explode,” Harry countered. “Our bond is still new enough that he’s insecure about it even though he has no reason to be.” Harry had to smile at the thought. _The silly prat._ “Then he would lose standing in Caleigh’s eyes and might lose his own part in the negotiations about the message that _he_ delivered. There’s no reason for me to stand aside except fear.”

“For some humans, that would be enough.”

“Not all of them. And something tells me that you haven’t met enough humans to judge us as a group.”

Jenara nodded slowly, her wings bobbing behind her. “I did not think of Elentaeri sabotaging the negotiations, I confess. Since she argued so strongly for new blood coming in, I thought she would support it every way she could.”

“She already sees the new blood she’d like to have,” Harry muttered. He still didn’t know if he believed that Elentaeri sincerely supported letting new Veela into Asovima, or if she had done it only so that she could be with him while they discussed it. “And she thinks that she can make me abandon Draco by making him look silly or lose his dignity.”

“And—humans do not care about that?”

“Some might.” Harry had found that the stupid things people cared about when it came to standing and political power—the _look_ of the thing—never failed to astonish him. “I don’t. What I care about is that I have someone who can love me. I doubt Elentaeri’s capable of that. She’d want to show me off as a pretty object.”

Jenara seemed to spend some time considering that. Finally, she murmured, “You deserve the truth.”

“You’re going to tell me something about Elentaeri?”

“Only that she has tried to steal others’ mates before. I think she cares more about being mated than who she does it with, although it might be she finds you more attractive than most of those she has pursued. She is being unusually determined.” Jenara looked straight at him. “I am sorry if this wounds your pride.”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “Of course not. It saves me from worrying that I’m breaking her heart. A broken heart can be fatal in Veela, I know.”

“Yes. But I do not think Elentaeri has one to break.”

Harry had to grin. Jenara fluttered her wings once more and turned away, adding over her shoulder, “Good luck to you in the negotiations. Some of the points Elentaeri makes are valid, although she is an idiot.” And she launched herself out the wide door, like a seam in the side of the tower, that let into the room a second before Caleigh, Draco, and Elentaeri landed.

Draco came at once to Harry and sniffed close to his neck. Harry let him. Jenara hadn’t touched him, of course; she probably had a jealous mate of her own. But the sniffing was easy enough to tolerate.

And it even pleased Harry in some way that he couldn’t explain, and thought he probably shouldn’t try to say aloud. That someone wanted _him_ , was angry when other people tried to touch _him_ , not the Boy-Who-Lived, was special and important. Harry had wanted, guilty with wanting it even as he did, for other people to make a fuss over him unrelated to his defeat of Voldemort.

He wanted the same sort of spoiling that Dudley’d got. At least, once in a while.

Draco made a soft noise as if he sensed all that without Harry even speaking it, and Harry leaned close to him and shut his eyes. It would be nice if that was true. He would feel so _stupid_ saying most of what he felt aloud.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck and then curled his fingers so that his nails trailed hard along Harry’s skin. Harry sighed softly and turned his head up, focusing his lazily blinking eyes on Draco.

“We do have negotiations to attend to.”

That was Caleigh. Draco bared his teeth and gave a soft hiss. Caleigh only looked at him, clearly not intimidated, and shook his head. “We all make allowances for a new bond as we can, Veela Malfoy, but we cannot let you simply caress your mate in front of us and not say something.”

Draco’s hand trembled away for a second. Harry thought calling attention to the fact that it _was_ a caress would upset Draco. But a second later, Draco raised his head and nodded. Then he pulled out Harry’s chair and let Harry settle into it. He took the one right beside him immediately, but only draped his wing to encircle Harry’s shoulder.

“I apologize for the offense, Veela Caleigh.”

“I always find that people who constantly touch each other in public have no _dignity_ ,” said Elentaeri, before Caleigh could answer. She took the chair on the other side of the table, opposite Harry. If she found Harry and Draco sitting together annoying, no one could have told that from her smile. “Don’t you think so, Harry?”

“Auror Potter. You could call me that.”

Elentaeri bit her lip and seemed to suppress a blush. “I think people who constantly—”

“We are getting distracted from our path,” said Caleigh loudly. “Veela Malfoy, will you explain the French Veela’s largest concern about relocating to Asovima?”

“Of course I did not specify the name of your city before I came here,” said Draco at once. His wing remained on Harry, a gentle, feathery weight, no heavier than a beam of sunlight. “I was told to find an enclave that would accept them. But I believe your city is the best choice.”

“Why?”

“Partly because of the reasons Veela Elentaeri brought up at the meeting,” said Draco, and his smile to Elentaeri was so empty of emotion that it might have been transparent. Harry leaned against Draco in a furious attempt to stop himself from snickering. “Because you seem to have many Veela here who lack mates. There would be nothing that would integrate Veela from another world like finding someone to love.”

“Yes, and live with,” said Caleigh, with a fleeting glance at Harry as if he thought one or both of them might not understand that. “You _grasp_ , Veela Malfoy, that not all Veela will find mates here?”

“I know that. But you can accustom them to this dimension. And when they go out to find other mates, they will be confident living here because of you.”

Caleigh stared at him. “You believe it will benefit us in other ways than having more mates. Or even more defenders of Asovima.”

Draco inclined his head. “This dimension is isolated, but not so isolated that some of the Veela elders in France don’t have records of it. This could be the beginning of an alliance with our world.”

“And other people would come through?” Elentaeri leaned forwards and arched her wings. Harry wondered what she was doing now. They were beautiful and shining, but they could never match Draco’s. “Other _humans_? Humans suited to being a Veela’s mate?”

Draco gave her another empty smile. “I can’t say how many of them there would be. But it would allow you a much wider choice than you have right now.”

Elentaeri sat back. Her wings were still raised, and quivering. Harry blinked. It seemed she was just—interested in possibly having a human mate.

_Jenara’s right. She just wants to be mated. She’s targeting me because I’m new and she’s never seen someone like me before, but she’s not trying to be annoying even with that. She just wants to have what Draco and I have._

That made Harry relax a little. He might not _like_ Elentaeri, ever, but he didn’t have to despise her.

*

Draco stretched his wings out and groaned. They had settled most of the details that really needed settling in the negotiations—such as when the first group of French Veela would come through and how many of them there would be, and how they could use a spell Caleigh had shown them to open a gate nearer Asovima—and Draco knew he should be feeling good about his accomplishment. But mostly, his back ached and his arse ached and his wings ached from the hard chair. He wanted to sleep, but he knew the aches would change into twists and torn muscles. He started to wearily massage his own back.

“Let me do that,” Harry whispered, and nudged Draco’s hands away from the small of his back. Draco collapsed face-down on their bed, grateful that he had managed to fly Harry back to their small tower room before giving in to his weariness.

“Your muscles feel _rigid_.”

“Yes, I know. Stupid chair.”

“And keeping your wing draped over me the entire time.” Harry sat back and pushed up Draco’s shirt, and Draco heard him murmur a spell that would probably conjure some warm lotion onto his hands. “You didn’t need to do that, you know.”

“I wanted to be sure Elentaeri understood she had no claim— _ah_.” Draco arched under Harry’s fingers, as they found a knot that seemed to have ties to most of his back muscles and dissolved it with some hard rubbing. “You have another calling if you ever want to stop being an Auror,” he mumbled incoherently, pushing his face into the pillow.

Harry laughed with what sounded like startled delight above him. “I’ll remember that, Draco.” His hands descended and continued to stroke back and forth, now and then digging and pressing. Draco warbled a little croon and let his attention drift for the first time since they’d walked into the negotiations that morning.

Elentaeri’s name brought him back, and he opened a reluctant eye, wondering why Harry had to mention her _just_ when Draco was getting relaxed.

“You didn’t need to keep your wing there to warn her off, I said.” Harry paused, and used both palms to lean his weight onto Draco’s back until Draco gasped. Harry swiftly backed off and began to massage the lotion into a few other, less tight places. “I did that well enough by myself. I don’t _want_ to belong to anyone but you.”

Draco made a sound that was probably messy with need. Harry leaned down, gently turned Draco’s head to the side, and kissed him. By now, Draco was relaxed enough that that didn’t make his neck crimp up like it would have before. He kissed back, his wings fluttering with his urgency.

Harry rolled him to the side and then onto his back, carefully arranging him so his wings drooped free, and kept kissing him. Draco squirmed against him, arching his hips and lifting his cock. Harry didn’t seem to take the message, so Draco concentrated hard enough to hunt down the right words.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Harry drew back and blinked at him. “I thought Veela—”

“You thought _I_ didn’t want you to do that.” Draco bared his teeth at Harry’s astonishment. He knew there were a few pieces of the past still unburied between them, and Harry had probably thought Draco would never trust him enough to let Harry to be on top. Or was too arrogant to bottom, one of the two. “Come on, Harry. Or you are not _man_ enough?”

Harry slightly rolled his eyes. “You can’t convince me that way.” But his eyes were full of heat as he studied Draco. “You’re relaxed enough not to be in pain?”

“Masochism isn’t one of my kinks.”

Harry smiled and bent down to kiss him. Then he began to conjure lube, and Draco opened his legs and sighed as he felt Harry’s fingers probe inside him.

He stared down at the slightly bent, slightly averted face and wanted to lick his lips. Yes, this was never going to happen with anyone else. Harry’s eyes snapped to him and he blushed, but he kept his fingers inside Draco.

“You know how to do this, right?” Draco did whisper. He wondered if Harry had exclusively bottomed for Corner, but he banished the thought before it had a chance to scramble the inside of his head. Harry wasn’t going to be doing this with anyone else any more than Draco was.

“No, I’m totally uneducated.”

Draco started to lift his head, but Harry laughed and pushed his face gently back into the bed. “Of course I know how to do this, you prat.”

“You didn’t sound like it—”

“You shouldn’t have asked the question, then.”

Draco ended up rolling his eyes and relaxing as best he could while Harry coated his fingers again in the lube and slid them slowly back and forth, rubbing inside Draco’s entrance. Draco sighed and his wings spread and stretched, fluttering. Harry made a soft noise. Draco opened one eye to look at him.

“You’re so incredibly _hot_ when you’re relaxed,” Harry said, and bent over to kiss him before Draco could come up with an answer for that. Well, then again, he supposed that Harry didn’t really need an answer. Draco was more than happy to let his legs fall open and his head tilt back as Harry’s fingers slid deeper and woke pleasure inside him.

It wasn’t long after that when Draco reached down and caught Harry’s wrist. “I don’t need any more preparation.”

“All right,” Harry said quietly, and drew back. No asking if Draco was sure, no distrusting his wishes. He simply gathered up his cock and slid into Draco with the same slowness he’d used to explore him with his fingers at first.

Draco tossed his head back with a shrill gasp. He had forgotten—it had been long enough since he’d had someone inside him—how very _intense_ this was. For a moment, Harry went still on top of him, his gaze finding Draco’s and holding it.

“If you stop now I’m going to play with you forever the next time I take _you_ ,” Draco snarled back, and Harry smiled and began to thrust.

Draco kept his eyes open for as long as he could, holding his mate’s gaze and watching Harry’s green eyes flutter and blink in slow pleasure, but before too long, he couldn’t do it anymore. His eyes slammed shut, and his body began to rise and fall with more than Harry’s thrusts. He pushed himself back onto Harry’s cock as hard as he could, and Harry groaned and moved faster in response.

The racing pleasure of the bond began to softly burn at Draco’s wrists and ears, connecting them nearly the way it had when they bonded in the house Draco had conjured. Draco shifted his hips and arched them a little, searching for—

There it was. _Direct_ contact with his prostate. Harry stared at him, lips open, and then parted them further in a moan and thrust even harder.

Draco fluttered his wings and raised his upper body a little from the bed. It was making him pant with effort but then, Harry was doing the same thing and then didn’t stop him from fucking Draco as hard as he could. Draco was going to prove—

That he was the equal, he was the Veela, they were the same—

Harry was staring at him again. Draco grinned, as best as he could when he had to fight to control his wings as he hovered in the air, and then lowered himself again onto Harry just as he began a slightly upwards thrust.

The moment blazed through both of them, and reached out with coiling tendrils of heat to wring Harry dry. And a second later, it arrived to do the same thing to Draco. Draco bucked as he came, his voice trailing out in a warble. Then he flopped over Harry and just crouched there, trembling.

“You’re wonderful,” Harry said, and wrapped his arms around Draco as if he assumed Draco would fly away if he didn’t.

Draco chuckled and closed his eyes. His back ached from the effort of exerting his muscles and wings like that while he was being fucked. And his hips shuddered with how hard he’d banged them into Harry’s, and his throat ached from the sounds he’d made.

All in all, it seemed like a good time to go to sleep.


	15. Blue Flames

“We know that we will see you again shortly, Veela Malfoy.”

Harry smiled a little as he saw the spasm of emotion that passed across Draco’s face. Yes, he had agreed that he would come back to this dimension to escort the French Veela, but he had found no love or companionship here.

“And you, as well, Auror Potter.” Caleigh spoke the job title as though it was foreign to his lips, but he smiled a little at Harry. “I know that you would not let your partner make the journey by himself.”

“If only because he might kill someone who flirted with him,” Harry agreed cheerfully. “Or because he would do the same to anyone who flirted with me while he was gone. I’ll come with him.”

Caleigh stared at Harry as if trying to figure out whether he was joking. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. The man was a Veela, and lived among Veela. He ought to know what they behaved like when someone threatened their mate or their bond.

 _On the other hand, I suppose there are degrees of desperation even among the Veela,_ Harry thought, and let his gaze stray a little to the side, where Elentaeri stood on a high platform of the tower next to the one where they were taking leave of Caleigh. She had glazed, dreaming eyes. Harry hoped she was thinking of the mate she might be able to choose among the French Veela, and not him.

It seemed so. At least she didn’t blush or simper or even really notice that he was looking at her.

Draco did. He tugged Harry sharply against his side and almost blanketed his face with the wing that he draped over him. Harry coolly tucked Draco’s wing away from him and raised an eyebrow. Draco had the grace to flush, at least once he looked to the side himself and saw that Elentaeri was almost ignoring them.

“So,” Harry said conversationally, “you said that you had a gate back to our dimension right in Asovima, so we don’t have to go tramping through yours?”

“You could fly to the gate you used,” Caleigh said. “But it would take several days, with Veela Malfoy having to stop and rest and sometimes strengthen your new bond. We would like to see you again as soon as possible. So, yes, go through this one.” And he turned and casually lifted his hand. The air behind them, all over the top of the flat platform they were standing on, turned a brilliant white.

Harry lifted a hand to shade his eyes and didn’t curse even though he wanted to. _Bloody Veela. No way they could give us a little warning?_

Draco squeezed his arm as if he knew what Harry was thinking, but also as if he agreed. Harry smiled at him and looked into the light of the gate when it had dimmed to a more normal level. He almost drooled when he saw green grass. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the colors of his own world.

“We will come back,” said Draco. He had a greater sense of drama than Harry did, or maybe he just understood the Veela customs better. Harry wouldn’t be surprised, given that he _had_ spent time around those French Veela. “Thank you for your hospitality, for your graciousness, for agreeing to take some of my distant cousins into your city.”

“We will see how well they fit.” Caleigh nodded to them, his back braced and his wings spread. “Good fortune attend you and your bond, Veela Malfoy.”

Draco wrapped his arms more strongly around Harry and soared through the gate before anyone could say anything else. Harry surprisingly sneezed as they passed through the white light, and again when they landed on what seemed to be the green grass of a meadow.

Not just any meadow, though, he realized as he leaned back on his heels and looked around. They were in the middle of the sweep of grass between Hogwarts’s lake and the castle. Harry sneezed once more at what was apparently the foreign smell of Veela magic, and then snorted. “Think McGonagall knows about the Veela gate so near her castle?”

“I doubt it.” Draco held out his hand and pulled Harry easily to his feet, grinning at him. “That’s not the kind of knowledge we share easily with outsiders.”

“But I’m considered worthy to know it.”

Draco’s smile turned quieter and more private, and he reached up to tuck a strand of Harry’s dark hair behind his ear. “You’re my mate, Harry. Of course you’re not an outsider.”

Harry found his breath not just catching, but stopping, as he stared into Draco’s eyes. Draco leaned slowly towards him, his soft, focused gaze making it perfectly obvious he was going to kiss Harry.

“Hold right there!”

Harry felt the stiffness of frustration that slammed through Draco’s wings, and he took a moment to caress his wings and lean against him before he turned around and met the gaze of the stunned woman on the other side of the path. “Hello, Headmistress. You’re looking well.”

“ _Harry_?” Minerva lowered her wand, blinking. Then she reached up and rubbed her eyes with one hand, the kind of gesture she would never have let Harry or anyone else to see when they were still students. “I thought you Apparated onto the grounds somehow. It reminded me of my worst fears during the war…Did you Apparate? How did you get here?” She looked around as if she wouldn’t be surprised to see the castle rip free of its foundations and start to dance.

Harry hid his amused chuckle—it would be much worse for him if he didn’t—and inclined his head respectfully. “We came through a gate from another dimension, Headmistress. Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone who’s not a house-elf can Apparate into Hogwarts.”

“And Mr. Malfoy?” Minerva considered Draco’s obvious wings and subtle attempts to shield Harry from her for a moment, and then nodded. “Or should I say Veela Malfoy?” Draco blinked. Minerva waved a hand. “Of course I know that form of address. I have had some Veela students in the past, you know. You have a tale to tell, and it’s cold out here. Let’s go to my office and have tea.”

She turned around and walked away. Harry blinked at her back, then blinked at Draco, who exhaled slowly and shook his head.

“At least she didn’t attack us when she thought we were Apparating onto the grounds,” he pointed out, and started after Minerva. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “It _is_ cold out here, and I want my mate inside where it’s warm.”

Harry smiled faintly and followed.

*

Draco made sure that both their chairs were the same distance from McGonagall’s desk and that he kept his wing casually draped over Harry’s shoulders in a claiming gesture. He wasn’t worried about McGonagall as a rival for his mate the way he had been about Elentaeri, but he did know that she might decide that they should be separated “for Harry’s own good” or some such nonsense.

At the moment, the Headmistress of Hogwarts didn’t seem inclined to do that, though. She sat behind her desk and sipped her tea and nodded a little as though complimenting the flavor to herself. She waited until Harry had got through most of a cup and Draco half of one before she spoke.

That really did prove to Draco that she was familiar with Veela. Most Veela didn’t feel the cold as much as humans.

“Now.” McGonagall set the cup in the exact center of her desk and looked from one to the other. “The last I knew, you were a full-time Auror, Harry. Is that still true?”

“He won’t be in as much danger as he usually is,” Draco said at once.

“I can answer for myself, Draco, thanks,” Harry said, and rolled his eyes a little at him. Draco draped the wing tighter in retaliation. Harry took no notice. “Yes, it’s true. I accompanied Draco on a mission to a different dimension where groups of Veela live.”

“And you’re the only one who came back?” McGonagall was studying everything, it seemed, from the feathers in Draco’s wings to the way he held Harry. “What precipitated Veela Malfoy’s transformation?”

“The same attack that killed the other Aurors that were with us,” Harry said, and grimaced. Draco knew the grimace was a mask for grief, and ducked his head, gently crooning in Harry’s ear. Harry reached up and squeezed his hand in silent thanks. “It nearly killed Draco, too. He had me cast a spell that bound me to him as a temporary mate until we could reach refuge.”

“ _Temporary_?”

“Not anymore,” Draco said. He hoped that Harry didn’t want to reveal any more than that. They were going to attract enough negative attention and publicity as it was.

McGonagall watched them as though she could imagine lots of explanations for the way things had turned out and liked none of them. Then she nodded. “Very well. You are welcome to stay in Hogwarts for an hour or two to recoup your strength. Then I think you should return to the Ministry.”

“Are they looking for us?” Harry lurched up beside him as though he was going to charge to the rescue of whoever was sobbing in pain at the Ministry right now. Draco rolled his eyes and held him easily in the chair.

“As far as I understand it, no. But there was a newspaper article yesterday questioning your absence, Harry.” McGonagall paused. “And accusing Veela Malfoy here of kidnapping you.”

“Of _course_ there was,” Draco muttered in irritation. “We both disappear at the same time, and it couldn’t be a mission they didn’t want to tell the public about or that I was helping him on a case. No, it must be a crime.”

“I did not believe it,” McGonagall told him quietly. “But it does mean that your return could be—explosive.”

Draco grimaced and reached for his tea again. Suddenly the Headmistress’s office, which he had only been prepared to tolerate, felt like a sanctuary.

*

Harry sighed heavily. He had suggested that he and Draco could Apparate back as close to the Ministry as they could get and use a spell to hide Draco’s Veela heritage until they were alone with Ron, Hermione, Kingsley, and other people who immediately needed to know. To him, it was the best way to keep Draco safe from a possible angry and public reaction, and to let them announce the news in their own time.

And of course Draco didn’t agree.

“You’re mine. You’re acting as though you’re ashamed of that!”

Harry winced as the air around him seemed to ripple impressively with thick, heavy magic, and shook his head. “I am _not_ ashamed,” he stressed, looking up at the sky. They were outside Hogwarts right now, on the road to Hogsmeade and the point where it was normal to Apparate from the castle grounds. “I just thought that it would be better if we could release the news quietly and slowly—”

Draco whirled him around and backed him towards a tree. Harry went with it, partially because he could see the blue flames shining in Draco’s eyes and didn’t want him actually hurling them.

“Why are you doing this?” Draco asked him, crowding him close. “You seemed so adamant that you were my mate when there were other Veela around. Are you ashamed of appearing as my mate in front of humans?”

“No. I was trying—”

“To _protect_ me. I’m strong enough to protect myself, _and_ you.” Draco hissed at him, flashing impressive teeth for a part-bird creature. “I thought we had this settled, Harry.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Fine, let’s talk about things we thought were settled. Why did you alternate between accepting the bond and tearing yourself away from it so much at first, and then act like of course we were going to bond and I was ridiculous for ever trying to keep my distance?”

Draco blinked. The flames in his eyes died a little. “I thought you knew. I was still seesawing back and forth between the Veela and the human sides of myself.”

“What made the difference for you? I mean, why did you decide to accept the Veela side?”

“Because I realized that you were the kind of person I could also fall in love with as a human. And because—fine, I wanted to have sex and call you mine.” Draco’s cheeks were flushing a furious rose, but he met Harry’s eyes fearlessly. “I didn’t want you to get away. Maybe I made the decision at a moment when I was acting more Veela than human, but I still made it.”

“And are you always going to act more Veela than human? Like, around my friends?”

“Only as much as I need to to make them keep their hands to themselves.”

Harry rolled his eyes again. “ _Listen_ to me, Draco. And don’t interrupt. Ron and Hermione have never been interested in me. They were always pining for each other almost from the moment they were in fourth year. Or maybe even before that. I don’t know, I try not to think that much about my best friends’ sex lives! You don’t need to intimidate them.”

“I was thinking about the Weaselette.”

Harry promptly jerked hard enough that Draco’s hands went flying away. Draco stared at him with dropped jaw. Harry probably wasn’t supposed to be able to do that when he was exercising his “Veela powers.”

“Don’t call her that,” Harry hissed.

Draco continued staring for a second. Then he dipped his head and cuddled close to Harry, his eyes becoming softer than Harry had seen them since they got back. “My apologies,” he said in a voice that was almost a warble, tracing his fingers down Harry’s jawline. “How can I make it up to you?”

Harry’s mind pictured a few, unhelpful ways. At least, they were unhelpful when he was trying to concentrate. He reached up, firmly caught Draco’s hand, and tugged it away from his face. “You can promise that you’ll never say that again.”

“I won’t say it again,” Draco murmured with an agreeable nod. “But you can’t stop me from thinking it.”

“You have _no reason_ to think it,” Harry snapped at him. “Ginny and I dated years ago. We broke up because it wasn’t right for either of us. But I know she doesn’t want me back. You managed to go around without insulting Elentaeri, even to me. Why is Ginny so different?”

Draco paused. Then he said, “Because I knew you didn’t want Elentaeri back.”

“I don’t want Ginny, either!”

“You did at one point.” Draco leaned heavily on him, almost enough to knock Harry away from his “perch” against the tree and onto his back. “I just want to know if you’re going to turn around and offer her your bed again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you asking me to tell you the gory details of our breakup?”

“Yes,” said Draco, without an ounce of shame.

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “Listen, then. Ginny and I were really young when we started dating. We became different people in the war. She faced the dangers at Hogwarts without me. I went off on that quest with Ron and Hermione without her. She thought she forgave me for breaking up with her to put her out of danger, but she didn’t—”

“I won’t put up with you if you try to break our bond because I’m in danger. You know that, right?”

“I won’t do that.”

“As long as you know.”

Harry sighed and went on. “But she didn’t realize that it hurt her a lot. And she watched me go off to Auror work, and sometimes not tell her the details of the cases because I couldn’t tell anyone outside of the people I was immediately working with, and she got fed up with being left out of important parts of my life. Some of it I didn’t even know I was doing. It was just natural for me to tell Ron and Hermione lots of secrets and not other people. But that doesn’t excuse it. We’d changed, but—not enough, in the end. Not enough in me, not enough for her.”

“I won’t allow you to do that.”

“What?”

“Keep secrets from me.”

“Draco, we were discussing the reasons that you and Ginny were _different_ —”

“Well, in _one_ respect, she’s smarter than I thought,” said Draco, in the tone of someone making so magnificent a concession that Harry rolled his eyes again. “But you won’t leave me out of anything you’re doing.”

“If I can’t tell you the details of an Auror case—”

“You’ll make an exception. I’m surprised that you stuck to the rules when it came to her, honestly.”

Harry felt his face flame. That was an almost exact echo of some of the last words Ginny had said to him the night she left. “Yeah, um. In retrospect, that was probably another sign that I didn’t feel as close to her as I should have.”

“You’re going to be so close to me that no one can tell the difference,” Draco insisted softly, reaching up to stroke Harry’s hair back from his forehead. “You _have_ to. This bond is permanent, but our trust won’t survive otherwise. And then, eventually, we won’t, either.”

“Yeah, I—get that.”

Draco continued studying him for another minute, then nodded. “Let’s go to the Ministry, then. Through the front door. We can still go straight to your Shacklebolt’s office, but we’re going to walk with my wing around your shoulders and make it obvious that you have a Veela mate. All right?”

Harry might still have bristled, but he could hear the faint traces of uncertainty in Draco’s voice. Part of him still feared rejection even now.

Harry only nodded, and leaned in to gently kiss Draco on the lips. Then he let Draco Apparate them, because it meant more to him than it did to Harry.

_I think I’m already learning how to pick my battles._


	16. Confrontation at the Ministry

To Harry’s astonishment, they actually managed to get through most of the Atrium without attracting attention. He supposed that people weren’t really looking for a Draco Malfoy with Veela features or a Harry Potter with a silver wing draped over his shoulder.

He glanced at Draco from the corner of his eye. Draco’s face looked like he was fighting between relief and indignation.

 _Of course. He_ wants _people to pay attention to us. He_ wants _to show me off._

Harry had to duck his head to hide a smile. Most of the time, he would have been irritated by such a thing in a lover. But it was part of Draco’s nature, and—

Harry had never had someone powerful enough to make other people back off and tell them to look but not touch. Witches had approached him all the time when he was dating Ginny, and then wizards after he started dating Michael and they learned that he also liked men in his bed. But all Draco would have to do was glare and snap his wings, and they’d turn tail and run.

 _Let’s make sure that that_ is _all he’s going to do, and I’ll be satisfied._

“Auror Potter!”

There was Kingsley himself, striding through the Atrium past the replaced fountain. For a second, his eyes gleamed, and then he looked beyond Harry and seemed to realize there were no Aurors following him into the Ministry. He immediately came to a stop and drew his wand, conjuring a Patronus messenger.

“Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley,” he murmured to the lynx, who tilted its head to him. “My office, at once. Harry’s returned and it’s urgent.” As the Patronus sped through the wall, he approached Harry and Draco more slowly, finally seeming to notice Draco’s wings.

Other people turned around then, and some excited screams began. So did some frightened ones. Draco stretched his silver wings slowly, arrogantly, and looked around as if he was imagining some way to take flight and smash all their mouths shut.

“Behave,” Harry managed to warn him in a low voice before Kingsley came close enough that it would look as if they were trying to keep from being heard.

“I have impeccable manners,” Draco said. “The rest of the world doesn’t always recognize that.”

Kingsley smiled a little as he halted in front of them, but he did say, “I was under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that you didn’t intend to become a Veela yourself. And that your Veela heritage was not close enough to the surface to present an issue in any case.”

Draco inclined his head. The silver wings remained in place, but everything else had melted back into his skin. He really did look like a winged man, Harry thought.

_Or an angel._

That was a thought he was absolutely _not_ going to share with Draco, and he tried to make his face stop burning as he listened to Draco and Kingsley speak. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye in a thoughtful way that Harry knew meant the interrogation would begin as soon as they were alone.

“The mission was a success in some ways, and an unexpected failure in others,” Draco said. “Can we go to your office now, Minister? There are ways in which this news might spread that I don’t think you want.”

Harry winced, but Kingsley didn’t seem to find the tone threatening the way Harry had been afraid he would. He nodded slowly, and glanced again at Draco’s wings—or maybe just the way his left wing fit snugly across the top of Harry’s shoulders, in the shape of his collarbone. “I can see that. Yes, please, come up. I think Auror Potter’s friends will arrive soon anyway, and they won’t want their photographs on the front page of the paper.”

*

“Harry!”

 _They’re his friends,_ Draco repeated firmly in the back of his head as he watched Granger and Weasley launch themselves at Harry and hug him as if they had a _right_. _Not his mates, not his lovers. I am the only one who has that right._

The words enabled him to stand there, blandly smiling and not even snapping his wings, while Harry hugged his friends and then shook Shacklebolt’s hand. But when Granger put her hand on Harry’s shoulder and started to pull him into the chair next to her, Draco snarled and surged forwards. A wave of his wand transformed one of the chairs into a long couch. He sat down next to Harry and tucked him under his wing again.

Harry shot him a slightly exasperated glance. Draco glared back. If Harry had wanted him to back off, he should have said no to the bond in the first place.

“What the hell is going on, mate?”

Draco snapped his glare back to Weasley. He could feel his fingernails already turning into claws, curving in a way that would shear flesh. His right wing flapped. Harry grabbed hold of him and said firmly, “We had to use a spell to save Draco’s life from harpies, and it turned him into a Veela. The only way we could survive was by bonding. Can you not call me mate, Ron? I’m sorry, but that name’s reserved for Draco now.”

Draco couldn’t help trilling smugly when he saw the way Weasley’s jaw was now hanging halfway down his chest. Then he leaned back against Harry and relaxed completely. Harry was going to fight for him. Draco could sense that much. That meant he didn’t have to worry about the coming conversation.

“If—you only bonded so you could save his life,” Granger said slowly, as if contemplating a complicated Arithmancy problem, “does that mean you could dissolve the bond now that you’re back in this world?”

“When it was temporary, we could have done that.” Harry was calm, resting his own curled fingers gently against Draco’s side. “But we made it a full bond. Now Draco needs me to stay alive. And I need him.”

“Why did you make it a _full_ bond, Harry?” Shacklebolt’s voice was neutral, but Draco could see the tension of his shoulders where he sat behind his desk. He wanted Harry free for something. _Perhaps he just wants him not to leave someone behind when he goes on Auror missions,_ Draco thought.

Harry flushed as red as some of the ground sunrises in the Veela dimension. Draco decided that he’d kept silent long enough. “Because we both needed it,” he said, and took up Harry’s hand.

“What is that going to do to your mission?”

Shacklebolt seemed to think they’d come back with it undone. Draco waved a careless hand. “It actually aided it. I think the Veela of Asovima, the enclave we found, were more willing to listen to me because I’m a Veela now. We discussed a time when some of the French Veela could arrive.”

“And Harry’s presence wasn’t a hindrance?”

“If you thought it would be, why have me go on the mission in the first place?” Harry asked.

Shacklebolt’s face tightened. Draco, dipping his head to smooth his cheek against Harry’s, wanted to snort. _He was there to protect me, and nothing else._

“What happened to the other Aurors you went with?”

Harry’s face darkened, and Draco crooned softly to him, sensing the rising of his emotions. Harry touched Draco’s hair in silent thanks. “All dead in the harpy attack that wounded Draco.” He shook his head. “We’re going to travel directly to Asovima next time. You have no idea how dangerous that dimension is, Kingsley.”

“You don’t think—” Granger started, looking at Shacklebolt in alarm.

“I want to know,” said Shacklebolt, looking between Harry and Draco, and speaking in a loud, clear voice, “whether you were lovers before you went to the dimension.”

Draco stared at him. But then he saw it, in a flash of insight as clear as Harry’s eyes. _He thinks that Harry murdered his fellow Aurors in jealousy over me. Or maybe he thinks that I killed them all to keep them away from Harry._

“No, we weren’t,” said Harry, and his voice was soft with fury. The other people in the room were relaxing, which Draco thought was stupid, but perhaps they weren’t used to hearing Harry speak that way when he was angry instead of shouting. “I never would have left Aurors I was working with to die. _Never._ It’s insulting of you to think it, Kingsley.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Harry.” Shacklebolt at least sounded sincere as far as Draco could tell. “But I also know that Veela charms can cause—”

“On someone who can resist the Imperius Curse?”

“I would never have used such magic against my mate without his permission.”

They spoke with their voices overlapping each other, but Shacklebolt nodded again after waiting a minute as if he was trying to figure out echoes. “All right. It’s a question that the general public will probably ask, though. I can’t think of the last time any mission killed all the Aurors involved except for one.”

“Really?” Harry asked at once. His voice was low and ugly. “You aren’t thinking about the Remoortel mission, then. Or the one when we were supposed to capture a bloke who was dabbling in breeding of ‘harmless’ experimental creatures and ended up facing a half-grown _basilisk._ Or the one where—”

“That only makes it worse, though.” Shacklebolt was sitting bolt upright in his chair again. “Because each time, you were the only survivor of that mission, and this time you are again, Harry.”

“Can my mate help it if he’s more skilled than other Aurors?” Draco asked in irritation. He had to wonder exactly what Shacklebolt expected Harry to do. Kill himself so it would be fair? “Or if he faced a basilisk before?”

Shacklebolt blinked a few rapid times. “I think you forgot to mention that, Harry.”

“I thought most people knew about it, and it’s not like I enjoy reliving the memory.” Harry would have got up from the couch to pace, Draco thought, but Draco held him in place with a calming chirp and a little pressure from his wing. Harry finally relaxed with a frustrated sigh. “Anyway. I wanted you to know that the mission was a success. And I’ll give one interview to the papers about becoming Draco’s mate. _One_. After that, they can speculate all they want, as usual. Giving multiple interviews wouldn’t shut them up, anyway.”

“I know ways to do that,” Draco said, and leaned more heavily against Harry when he gave him a skeptical look. Well, he _did_. And just because they were underhanded means that Harry would have hesitated to use before didn’t mean they would be beyond his reach forever.

“You do have to think about what this is going to do to your job,” Shacklebolt told Harry, in the kind of unconscious condescension that he seemed to project everywhere. “We had only one Auror mated to a Veela before this. It—didn’t go well.”

“Because the Veela didn’t want her mate venturing into danger?” Draco shrugged when Shacklebolt stared at him. “I’m a Veela now. I know the way it feels.”

“You seem to have heard of this before.”

“Of course I knew there must have been Veela mated to Aurors before. And I only guessed that it was a woman because most Veela _are_.” Draco had actually been surprised to see as many males in Asovima as he had. “Anyway, Harry and I have discussed that. I’ll be able to let him work. He can defend himself well.”

“Other people might not think so.”

“They can go—hang.” Draco would have said something else, but Harry’s hand was firm and gripping on his thigh, as if Harry might be able to grow claws himself. Draco settled for a stiff nod at Shacklebolt.

“All right. All _right_.” Shacklebolt sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Harry, I’ll expect you to give that interview to the papers soon.” He looked at Granger and Weasley, who both looked a little red-faced, and smiled. “And now, I suspect that you’d like to talk to Harry without anyone else interfering. Mr. Malfoy, do you want to accompany me outside and tell me about the mission?” He stood.

“I’m comfortable where I am, thanks.”

“Mr. Malfoy. I said that Mrs. Granger-Weasley and Mr. Weasley would like to talk to Harry _alone_.”

“I heard you.”

Draco gave Shacklebolt a lazy glance from under his eyelids. He could sense a bit of resistance to his power; it was possible that Shacklebolt either knew Legilimency or had a strong will. But it didn’t matter. If Draco wanted to, he could push and have Shacklebolt a drooling mess at his feet.

“Draco.”

And he knew that tone. Draco fluttered his wings and said nothing.

Harry turned his head and pinned Draco with the full force of his shining eyes. “We agreed that we would still be mates,” he said. “And mates trust each other, the way you trusted me to deal with Elentaeri.”

After a long moment, Draco sighed and stood. He took his time untangling his wing from around Harry’s shoulders, and deliberately slid his fingers through the messy black hair when Harry blinked up at him. “I hope you remember what else mates do,” he murmured, and turned to walk out into the corridor with Shacklebolt.

At least the man wasn’t likely to ask any awkward questions about the way he and Harry had become mates. He would want to know the politics of Asovima and how the mission had resolved, and Draco could recite those dry facts.

And he trusted Harry to tell him the contents of the conversation with Weasley and Granger later.

 _All_ the contents.

*

Ron hugged him again the minute the door shut behind Draco. Harry made sure that he didn’t tense up. This was perfectly normal, his friends hugging him like this. Just because it had seemed for a few days in the other dimension like no one but Draco should ever embrace him again…

Those were irrational mate feelings. Harry would deal with them because he had to, but he also loved his friends.

That made him finally able to pat Ron’s back before he released him. “You were all right while I was gone?” he asked quietly, looking back and forth between Ron and Hermione. If something big happened, they would tell him, but they might have waited until now.

Hermione hugged him in turn. “We were waiting for you. Dealing with some rumors about where you were.” She sighed and let her head rest on his shoulder. Harry shoved away the slight feeling of that being wrong, and stroked her hair. “It was tiring. Of course, nothing like as big as what happened with you.” She stared up at him pointedly. “What _really_ happened, Harry? How did the temporary bond turn into a permanent one?”

It didn’t surprise Harry she would have heard of the spell to create a temporary bond with a Veela. “It needed to.”

“I know what that means,” Ron said, and shook his head in the mournful gesture that Harry thought he’d probably perfected when they were twelve. “It means that Malfoy was in trouble, and you went too far, because you thought _you_ needed to.” He leaned over to thump Harry on the shoulder. “Your bloody people-saving thing.”

“It would have been enough to just bond yourself to Malfoy temporarily if he was wounded badly enough to bring his Veela heritage forth,” Hermione murmured, her eyes darting back and forth a little as if she was reading an invisible book. “What changed it?”

“Draco did,” Harry said. He thought of the moments when they had bonded, and found himself smiling. Maybe his friends would think he was mental. He honestly didn’t care. “He was battling dangers in that dimension—we both were, you have no idea how hard it is to survive there—and he needed to take care of me, and prove he could protect me, and seduce me.”

Ron squeaked and covered his ears. Harry smiled, waited until he took them away again, and then drawled, “ _Seduction_ ,” in a voice he thought Draco would have been proud of.

Ron clapped his hands over his ears again. Hermione frowned at him and pulled them away. “ _Honestly,_ Ron!”

Harry had to smile again. How many times had he heard that tone back in Hogwarts, and since?

“So he wanted to, and he convinced you it was a need,” Hermione said, turning back to Harry.

Harry held his hands up. “Don’t make it sound like it was all his fault and I gave in out of pity. That’s not what happened at _all_. I allowed it to go far enough that he could have died if the bond wasn’t made permanent. So that’s what we decided to do.”

“And you didn’t want to try and wait until you came back to Earth?”

“When I knew he would die if I didn’t? No.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione’s eyes were wide and bright, and filled with tears as Harry watched in astonishment. “It means that you gave up the chance to fall in love with someone else, to have a less jealous—”

“Draco can control his jealousy,” Harry said firmly. They kept trying to take the wrong road, but considering they thought of Draco as “Malfoy,” he could see why. He had to shut off that road forever, though. “Otherwise, he never could have left me alone with you. And I wasn’t pining for someone, Hermione. I wasn’t yearning after an impossible love. I _can_ care for Draco. I _do._ I love him. I’d do things for him I wouldn’t do for anyone else.” He smiled at her expression. “And just think, being _his_ mate means I can’t bond myself to any other Veela who needs me.”

Hermione didn’t seem reassured, and Harry sighed a little. “I will do what I can,” he said, and pressed a hand firmly on her back as she relaxed against him again. “But that doesn’t mean giving Draco up. Never that.”

“All right, mate,” Ron said, finally staring at him. “And if I have to stop calling you ‘mate,’ I will. But this is going to be bloody weird, being in the same room with Malfoy and knowing he’s not going to turn up his nose and start insulting us any minute.”

“He won’t, because then I’ll punish him.”

“How?”

“Refusing to have sex with him.”

Ron clapped his hands over his ears again, while Hermione poked him. “If you keep asking questions like that, then you deserve the answers,” she told him in all seriousness.

Harry smiled at them. He loved his friends. He loved Draco. Not the same way, but they were both there.

And _somehow,_ he would make this work.


	17. Wonderful

This time, as they made their way back across the Atrium, they weren’t so lucky.

“Harry _Potter_?”

Harry stopped and sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. Draco stepped closer to him and tightened his wing until he thought Harry would stumble. Harry just moved with it, though, and shook his head a little at Draco as people started to crowd close to them.

“Are you going to be all right? They’re probably going to touch me, at least to shake my hand.”

“I can do it.” Draco narrowed his eyes at the nearest witch, and she at least paused and squeaked. “I can’t believe how much it’s changed, though. A fortnight ago, I would have thought that resigned expression you’re wearing was playing up to the masses, and that you really _did_ enjoy your fame.”

“I wish,” Harry muttered. “It would make some things easier.”

He started talking to people and shaking hands the next minute. Draco watched him thoughtfully. Now he wondered how he could ever have still thought Harry was arrogant and an attention-seeker. The lines around his eyes were tight, not ones of laughter or smugness. He shook hands in a business-like manner, not rushing through it to get to the ones that would give him the most prestige, as Draco had supposed. And he kept up a smile that was visibly strained.

 _Well, I didn’t know anything then. Harry didn’t know me, either._ Draco didn’t see much sense in blaming his past self for mistakes that he’d made for understandable reasons.

“And why does _Malfoy_ have a wing over you like that?”

Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he heard the hiss rumbling in his chest. Harry must have heard it, too, because he leaned more heavily against Draco and used his free hand—the one the idiot wasn’t shaking—to reach up and gently fondle his wing. Draco found himself drooping his head and leaning more heavily on Harry in return. He could feel the soft smile against his cheek as Harry whispered, “Behave.”

“If they do.”

“I expect you to be better than them,” Harry said, and then turned back to the gaping man whose hand he was still holding. “Draco has a wing over my shoulder because he’s a Veela and I’m his mate,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“There is no—there is no Veela heritage in the Malfoy family,” the man blustered.

Draco took a critical look at him. Not features he recognized, although he’d been detached enough from daily politics in the Ministry that that wasn’t surprising. This wizard was snub-nosed and sneering, brown-haired and probably brown-souled. “Of course there is,” Draco said. “We used a spell to survive when we would have died, and now I’m a Veela and Harry is my mate.” He slid an arm around Harry’s waist and tugged him firmly backwards, breaking the hold of the handshake. It had gone on _long_ enough.

“Auror Potter, he’s _lying_.”

“I’ve also said it,” Harry said, and his voice was gentle and almost teasing and also _pissed off_. The one mistake Draco thought he might not be able to forgive his past self for was how stupid he’d always thought Harry was. “Does that mean I’m lying?”

“Auror Pot—I mean, of course not.” The man stepped back and gave them a stiff little bow. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I am. Why would I stay touching someone if I wasn’t?” And Harry gave his hand a slight wring, as if he’d been the one to decide to withdraw from the handclasp with the stupid wizard.

The man flushed, a darker red than Draco’s words had made him. Draco hid his chuckle in Harry’s hair. God, his mate was _witty_. It was a quality he’d always looked for in his bed-partners as a human. This was pretty good, too.

That wizard trudged away, humiliated, but others took their place. Witches who fluttered as if they thought simpering would attract Harry. Harry merely looked bored. Wizards who tried to insult Draco’s Malfoy heritage. Harry raised an eyebrow. People who wanted photographs. Harry permitted one, and firmly shook his head to all the rest, steering Draco towards the fireplaces near the far end of the Atrium.

 _I suppose he has to be firm to deal with the public that always wants to take his fucking picture._ But Draco hadn’t realized how aroused that would make him. He was glad his chest was plastered to Harry’s back and no one could see. No one else but Harry _deserved_ to see.

Harry tilted his head back towards him, but didn’t look away from the witch he was currently talking with, who had her hands clasped and her head bent forwards so her long hair tumbled around her face. Harry didn’t look at her hair at all, though. Draco would grow his hair long for Harry if he wanted.

He said as much to Harry, quietly, when they finally broke away from the crowd and went to the fireplace that would take them to Harry’s home. Draco had no desire to return to his cold flat at the moment, or the Manor. Introducing Harry to his parents could _wait_.

Harry smiled at him. “You don’t need to change. I love you the way you are.”

Several Ministry workers waiting in line to use the fireplaces turned around and gasped as they heard the words, probably because “love” had been in there, but Draco stared at them, and they found business elsewhere. Harry snorted.

“They believed they had a chance,” he said. “Them and everyone in wizarding Britain, I suppose.” He flung the powder into the fireplace. “Harry’s Nest!” he said clearly, and vanished into the flames.

 _Nest, that’s a good omen,_ Draco told himself, although perhaps he was only thinking that because the staring unnerved him. He followed Harry, and made sure to cast a glance over his shoulder as he went, so that no one else could sneak after them.

“Do you always say your Floo address in front of people like that?” he asked when he stumbled out into the middle of a neat drawing room, shaking soot from his wings. They’d got a bit banged up from the swift whirling.

“Oh, people can know the address,” Harry said, and waved his wand at the fireplace, murmuring another spell Draco had never heard of. As he watched, blinking, a net of magic flared to life over the logs, silver and gold. “Those are the wards they’ll run into headlong if they try to use it without permission.”

“What counts as permission?”

“Me being with them or already being here. I don’t let anyone use it alone.” Harry paused in the middle of taking off his cloak. “Well, I’d let you. But no one else.”

Draco opened his mouth, but what came out wasn’t words. It was a deep croon that had already been making the center of his chest vibrate. He licked his lips and moved forwards, reaching out to help Harry off with the cloak. And then the Auror robes. And then his shirt.

Harry dropped his head forwards. His breathing had gone soft and slow. Draco pressed two fingertips into the middle of his back and willed pleasure through them. Harry gasped and spun around to kiss him, reaching up to stroke his wings at the same time. Draco crooned again.

“You’ve done so much for me,” Draco murmured into his mouth, when they finally managed to part. “I couldn’t—I have no idea how to repay you. But let me make a try.” He knelt and nuzzled the front of Harry’s trousers.

Harry’s breathing sped up until he sounded as if he was at the point of pain. “It’s not about repayment,” he said. “But—please, Draco. Yes.”

Draco undressed him the rest of the way with gentle hands, and let his wings fan out and curl around the backs of Harry’s legs. Harry made a soft, startled noise, and balanced himself with one hand in the middle of Draco’s hair. Draco deliberately kissed his knees and then spread Harry’s legs with fingers and feathers both.

Harry was so _easy_ to please. Even a bit of focused pleasure made him cough or gasp with excitement, and soon he was rocking his hips forwards into Draco’s mouth with no words at all, only strangled noises. Draco looked up once and managed to catch his gaze at the same moment as Harry let his eyelids flutter open and looked down.

Draco felt all his muscles tense up as he came, untouched, with nothing more than the burning mirror of Harry’s eyes fixed on him. He still managed to swallow when Harry came, though. Because that was something Veela did.

 _He will never want for anything,_ Draco promised himself as he helped Harry gently to the floor and scooped him up, with the aid of a Lightening Charm. _Because he is the kind of person who would always make sure that_ I _never wanted for anything._

They went to bed, or rather, Draco put Harry to bed and then curled around him. Harry did insist on squirming until Draco took his own robes, shirt, and boots off. Then Harry wrapped himself around Draco as much as he could while sparing his wings and dived into slumber.

He did murmur one last thing as he did so. “You’re wonderful, Draco.”

Draco didn’t say _I know_ , or _No,_ you’re _wonderful,_ because he knew Harry wouldn’t hear. But he did tuck his arm around Harry’s waist and think, to himself, a little smugly, that _he_ was the one who got to hear that.

*

“Auror Potter!”

 _Wonderful._ Harry twisted towards the sound, already knowing that he wouldn’t like this confrontation. Draco came to a stop beside him, wings flexing and stretching. His eyes were narrowed, and his hands had already grown curved nails that looked as if they could tear through cloth.

 _Wish I could have him shred Nathan’s chest,_ Harry thought, and faced the bane of his existence in the Auror Corps.

Nathan Klaine came to a stop, staring at him intensely. Unlike the brown-eyed wizard from yesterday, whose name Harry hadn’t even known, this man was as familiar to him as Kingsley. He’d been in Harry’s class of trainees, and worked beside him on many missions, and had the office next to Harry’s.

And he’d never forgiven Harry for surviving a basilisk where his brother hadn’t.

“You know that all Veela mates have to be properly registered with the Ministry?” Nathan asked. His voice wasn’t a shout, but decently loud, and a few heads popped out of offices. They were in the middle of the main corridor that ran through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after all.

“No. I never heard such bollocks.”

Nathan blinked and took a step backwards. The heads retreated into their offices, and when Nathan spoke again, it was with a lowered voice and spite dark and impatient in his blue eyes. Harry knew he wouldn’t want their confrontation disrupted too easily. “Well, it’s _true_. Veela are creatures, and the Ministry registers them just like werewolves.”

“Another way in which we’re behind France and most other civilized nations.”

Nathan sneered at Draco and went right on talking to Harry as if he thought Draco didn’t exist. Or didn’t _matter_ , Harry thought, as his anxiety rippled through him. That was likely to be closer to the truth. “You don’t have any choice now. You have to go and register, and so does _he_.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Harry shook his head. Nathan had always been prone to jump into situations like this and then need someone else to rescue him. “ _Then what_? Are you going to tell me that being Draco’s mate means I have to stop working as an Auror? Are you going to tell me that we have to take potions every month, like registered werewolves have to take Wolfsbane? What?”

“It’s _registration_! That should be humiliating enough!”

“Nothing connected with Draco is ever going to humiliate me, Klaine.” Harry moved a stalking step forwards, which forced Nathan back—and away from Draco, which was what Harry had really been aiming for. “I’m his mate, he’s mine. That’s it. That’s the important thing.”

“Harry.”

There was a hint of a croon to the voice behind him, and Harry blinked and turned his head. He honestly didn’t know what had aroused Draco this time, but they were not mating in the middle of the Ministry.

However, he saw Draco’s eyes and how they were focused on Nathan, and knew in an instant that he’d mistaken the nature of the sound. “Draco, no.”

“Why not? He’s useless. A petty little creature of spite and malice.” Draco’s eyes narrowed and he sniffed once. “And grief. Grief he’s never addressed and blames you for. So, just like the people at Hogwarts who thought they could paint you with their own emotions. Pathetic. Some things never change, do they?”

“Draco—”

“ _Malfoy_!” Nathan roared, and pointed his wand.

Harry’s own wand snapped up. That was what he’d been waiting for. Nathan could never control his temper, and he would have done something stupid any minute now. That it was aiming his wand at Harry’s mate only made the discipline all the sweeter.

“You need to lower your arm,” Harry said, his eyes boring into Nathan’s, while Nathan stared at him in something like shock.

“You can’t just—”

“When you threaten my mate? I can.”

“And that’s another benefit of the registration that you didn’t mention.” Draco’s hand was warm and solid and slightly restraining around Harry’s waist, just the way Harry liked it. “Veela mates are kept track of, along with Veela, but that just means when they get into a duel, it’s usually assumed to be for good cause. Unless there’s multiple Pensieve memories proving otherwise, of course.”

Nathan was panting, his arm trembling. Harry stared dispassionately back at him. He didn’t _want_ to start a duel, but he knew he could if he wanted. But he leaned back against Draco and breathed gently to calm down as Kingsley came out of his office at the end of the corridor.

“Who began this?”

“Auror Klaine started taunting Auror Potter and his—mate about how they’d have to register,” said an Auror whose last name was Inchton. Harry nodded to her. She was strictly neutral on most topics, closed-off but fair. She nodded back and disappeared into her office again.

“Auror Klaine, I’m disappointed in you.”

“They _do_ have to register!” Nathan flung back. At least he’d lowered his wand, which meant Harry felt marginally safe doing the same. Draco curled a hand around his side and gently stroked. “That part’s true!”

“Which would imply you said something that isn’t.”

Nathan stared at the floor. Harry wanted to shake his head, but he thought he might be in enough trouble as it was, so he stood still.

“He shouldn’t have lived,” Nathan whispered. “Brian should have.”

“Auror Potter’s survival is not his fault,” Kingsley said, in a calm, assured voice that had most of the spectators retreating now that they knew nothing more interesting would happen. “He underwent an investigation. And he was the only one who knew how to deal with a basilisk. That he managed to rescue the hostages—”

“But _not Brian_!”

And then, in spite of everything, in spite of Kingsley’s presence, Nathan wheeled around and lifted his wand again. Harry had never completely lowered his; he flicked a Shield Charm up now, and a surprise behind it if Nathan used Dark spells that could pierce the Shield Charm, which he might.

Sure enough, the curse that crackled from Nathan’s wand was Dark enough to make the air steam. Harry only took a prudent step back as the Shield Charm cracked.

The Cocoon Shield hiding behind it munched the curse—which seemed to be some version of Black Lightning Harry hadn’t seen before—and wrapped itself around the power. For an instant, Harry stood there in the surging silvery light of the fighting magic, with Nathan staring at him and Draco holding him so tightly his liver ached. Then the power turned and shot itself back into him.

Harry gasped and staggered. His eyes blinked hard, and he saw purple spots exploding in front of his vision. Then he grinned. That felt _great_. His fingertips tingled, and he felt the urge to dance down the corridor.

“What did that do?” demanded another Auror who was watching the aborted duel with enough attention that Harry could probably count the number of her teeth by now.

“The Cocoon Shield feeds the magic of the attacker back into the caster of the shield,” Draco said. His voice was muffled, probably because he had his head bowed so that he was sniffing directly into Harry’s neck. “There’s only a few people who can cast it. You have to be strong enough to manage the spell _and_ withstand the magical backlash.” He tightened his arms and wings around Harry.

“I really want to fuck you now,” he added, but luckily, that was soft enough that Harry didn’t see anyone else turn red.

Kingsley finally recovered enough to Disarm Nathan and bind him, marching him away. He did catch Harry’s eye and jerk his head at his own office. Harry strutted up the corridor. At the moment, he didn’t care about anything but how good he felt.

And how good Draco’s hands felt on him. He turned around as soon as they got the door of Kingsley’s office closed, kissing him with desperation.

Draco shook his head fiercely and said, “Harry, I am _not_ going to fuck you on Shacklebolt’s desk.”

“But you want to.”

“Your power matches what I knew about you before we bonded, and so does your recklessness.” Draco pushed his own hair out of his eyes and gave Harry a hard stare. “ _Calm down_.”

Harry took a long breath that made his lungs twitch, and sat down. “You’re right. Damn, it’s been too bloody long since I used the Cocoon Shield if I’ve forgotten how to control the reaction.” He peered up at Draco. “Admit you wanted to, though.”

“I said that in the corridor.” Draco sat down in the chair next to him, reaching out to interlace his fingers with Harry’s. “Just—next time, please remember that my wings are also incredible shields.”

Harry blinked several times. He’d known that about Veela even before he and Draco bonded, but he’d forgotten. “Oh.”

“Yes. Let me protect you, too.” Draco’s face was sculpted beauty as he leaned forwards and gently shoved Harry’s fringe back off his scar. “You realize that I know how to.”

“Yes.” Harry leaned his head back and let Draco run his fingers through his hair, saying nothing else, until Kingsley came back.

_I am so lucky to have him._


	18. An Unexpected Holiday

“I think you need to be placed on leave, Harry.”

Harry swallowed and tried not to think about how it might look to Kingsley, to have Draco’s hand locked on his shoulder. “I—why is that?”

“Because we’re going to have all sorts of complications from your fight with Nathan.” Kingsley was rubbing at his eyes with the pad of one finger. He sighed and lowered his hand to study it. “I know you’ll be cleared, especially since the witnesses say he started it. But the Veela factor complicates things. Sometimes it’s the mate and not the Veela that gets irrationally jealous and attacks others. My fear is that’s the defense Nathan will use. You’ll need to go on leave while we gather memories to prove that’s not what happened.”

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded slowly. The adrenaline high of absorbing Nathan’s magic had died down, and he reminded himself that he had dueled someone right in the middle of the Department. “You’re right, Kingsley. All right, Draco?”

“Yes, of course.” Draco was standing casually behind Harry’s chair, the way he had been since Kingsley came in, both hands resting on Harry’s shoulders now. “And it’ll give me some time to do something that would usually be required the minute we came back.”

“What’s that?” Kingsley asked. Harry was glad it was him. It would make him look ignorant to ask the question.

Draco bent down and rested his cheek against Harry’s. Harry caught his breath. It felt so—warm wasn’t the word.

“We need to properly register as Veela and mate,” Draco said, and his voice was like liquid sugar poured down Harry’s spine. “That will keep foolish duels such as the one Nathan forced on Harry from happening again. And it will make it possible for me to defend Harry with all my strength.”

 _That’s why he held back in the corridor. He might have killed Nathan._ Harry reached up and caught Draco’s left hand. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to kill anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t mind feeling that way at all.”

Harry opened his mouth, but Kingsley intervened before he and Draco could start arguing. “An excellent idea, Veela Malfoy. Might I suggest also casually appearing in public, in a place other than the Ministry? That will accustom people to the idea that you’re Veela and mate.”

Harry closed his mouth and went along with the nodding and the soft little agreements Draco made. There was enough time later when they could argue, or rather when Harry could hopefully convince Draco not to kill people who just made the mistake of brushing up against Harry when they were in Diagon Alley or something.

Draco led him out of the office with an arm around his waist and a wing draped over his shoulders again. Harry waited until they were away from the neck-craning, gape-mouthed Aurors to say, “Don’t kill people.”

“I legally can.”

“But I don’t _want_ you to.”

Draco ducked his head and rested his nose near the nape of Harry’s neck. “Even someone who attacked you with the intent to kill? I know what that curse he used does, Harry. You would have been in a coma for _months_ at the least.”

“But it was never going to land.” Harry tried to pull himself away from Draco’s hold, and only succeeded in having Draco resettle himself in place like a calm snake. “You know I’m a better Auror than that.”

“I know that I want to be able to legally protect my mate any way I desire.”

“And what about what _I_ desire?”

Draco hesitated. Then he said, “This would have been easier if I’d grown up with my Veela heritage, or you’d grown up with some expectation of becoming the mate of a Veela.”

“Sure.” Harry led him further down the corridor and back to the lifts, not really in the mood to encounter anyone right now, even if they weren’t going to champion Nathan. “But that doesn’t mean that you would get to kill people even then. There are so many other ways you can handle them,” he added, when he saw Draco’s eyes starting to swirl silver.

“I’d like you to tell me what they are.” Draco’s voice was soft and cutting, and he leaned more heavily on Harry than he had.

“You can kick them in the stomach,” Harry said, and stepped into the lift, and shut the doors behind them. He ignored his own excitement at being alone with Draco in a private space. Now was _not_ the time for that. “You can take off and then do that. I know Veela can land heavily. Or you can fling a fireball at them.”

“How would that not kill them?”

Harry gave him a withering look. “ _Please,_ Draco. Pretend to other people that you’re not in control of your instincts or your magic, but don’t do it to me. It’s insulting.”

Draco paused, then smiled a little. “You’re right. I could manage a fireball that would inconvenience but not kill someone.” His face was softly intrigued as he caressed Harry’s shoulder. “Are you going to tell me how I can hold back the instincts when I see you in danger? Or see someone touching you?”

Harry cocked his head as the lift reached the bottom of its shaft. There was a familiar voice out in the Atrium. He grimaced. “I think you’re about to find out,” he said, and then opened the door while Draco was still staring at him in surprise.

Sure enough, Estelle Williams, the woman who wrote the gossip column for _Witch Weekly_ , was waiting for them. She was a tall, immaculately-made-up woman with grey eyes that always looked wider than they really were, thanks to her arched eyebrows and the blonde hair she wore tightly pulled back in a gleaming bun. She nodded to Harry and Draco and advanced on them, elegant grey robes swishing around her. “Ready to talk to me, Auror Potter?”

Harry gave her a smile that was more grimace than smile, and he knew it. “No.”

“But you _must_ , you know, that’s the way things work,” said Williams chidingly, falling into step beside him. Draco kept his wing locked over Harry’s right shoulder and a low growl with a hint of a croon bubbling in her throat, but that didn’t bother Williams; she simply walked on Harry’s left side. “All of our readers will be thrilled to learn that you aren’t a bachelor anymore!”

“Thrilled?” Harry asked blankly. Williams had been teasing, or threatening, him for years that there would be a revolt when he finally found someone to date.

Williams smiled at him. “They know that Mr. Malfoy is a Veela, which means they have no chance. So they’ll sigh over the deep love of your bond instead of attempting to claim you for themselves.”

“That had _better_ be what they decide to do,” said Draco in a bleak tone, ducking his head as if he was going to rest his chin on the back of Harry’s head. Williams glanced at him and blinked, then turned to Harry so she could keep her attention focused on him.

“They will,” she said. “But, of course, we want to hear all about how you became bonded, and what kind of daring and romantic exploits you and Mr. Malfoy have been up to since. Can you do that, Auror Potter?”

“No.” Harry wanted to go home and wait for the first Ministry investigator to contact him. It shouldn’t take _that_ long, he tried to reassure himself. Most people in the Ministry knew about Nathan’s grudge towards him. Therefore, he would be cleared. But he still always got sweaty palms when an investigation started, and this one would be no different.

Williams stepped in front of him, with a smile that would have looked apologetic, except Harry knew what her eyes normally looked like. He instinctively stepped back against Draco, both to keep him from lunging and to get a feeling of protection.

“You’re talking about it as if you have a choice,” said Williams softly, shaking her head. “You know as well as I do that there _will_ be a revolt without your cooperation, Harry. It will make the frenzy over your breakup with Michael Corner look small. All it will take is half an hour. Come. You can bring your interesting Veela with you.”

Harry opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what he would have said, because Draco leaned over his shoulder and spoke for him. His voice was edged with spite and ice, and still so beautiful that it was a little hard to realize the sense of his words at first.

“You wouldn’t threaten anyone else who wanted to refuse an interview. This is more of your tendency to treat Harry Potter as if he were a toy, yours to manipulate and do whatever you want with. I don’t know where you got this tendency—perhaps Rita Skeeter started it years ago with all her articles about the Triwizard Tournament—but it stops, now. I’m here in Harry’s life. _It stops._ ”

The shudder of his voice all around them made Harry shudder for a different reason. He clenched his hand into a tight fist to keep from reaching back and grabbing Draco’s shirt and dragging him into one of the private rooms that he knew the Ministry kept off the side of the Atrium.

Williams did take a step back, but her eyes were large with indignation, not the fear that Harry knew Draco had been trying to inspire. “ _Mr._ Malfoy! I am nothing like Rita Skeeter! She passed gossip off as truth. I write for a respectable entertainment newspaper.”

“And you still have no right to Harry’s time and company unless he feels like giving it to him. You still can’t threaten him.”

“I wasn’t threatening—”

“ _You’re talking about it as if you have a choice._ ”

Williams backed up again. This time, she didn’t look angry, but as if she was actually thinking through how she might sound. It was more than Harry had ever been able to achieve with her. He tilted his head back and gave Draco a small smile in thanks.

“You know that doing one interview with someone will be necessary to calm the rumors that are spreading out from this disturbance in the pool,” Williams said.

“And that interview will be with an official paper, not a gossip magazine,” said Draco sweetly, and guided Harry up to a fireplace with his wings spread and lifted. Harry grinned at the gesture. It would prevent the photographers Williams undoubtedly had with her from getting any “intimate” pictures.

When they were through the fire, Draco growled and began pacing back and forth in Harry’s drawing room. “ _Fuck,_ Harry. Do they ambush you like that all the time?”

“Pretty much.” Harry yawned and removed his Auror robes, tossing them at a chair. When they missed and slid to the floor, he rolled his eyes and Levitated them onto the hook in the closet where they spent their time when they weren’t on him. “Only worse. You handled it really well for me. Thank you.”

He smiled at Draco. For the first time, Draco didn’t smile back. There was dark intent on his face as he paced and prowled, and his wings beat up and down as though he was going to launch himself into the air. Harry had just decided on a kiss to calm him down when Draco spun to face him and cocked his head. “I wasn’t going to do this for a few days, but I think we need to.”

Harry felt a tremor of unease in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want you to meet my parents until we had more chance to settle the bond and all the rumors that are spreading around us.” Draco took his hand and stared deeply into his eyes. “But my father is the best in the wizarding world when it comes to projecting haughty disdain. And me being a Veela will inspire contempt for me in some people—”

“ _Stupid_ people.”

“Thank you. But what I was going to say is, not everyone will back away like Williams did. Will you let my father handle this for you?”

Harry frowned and lowered his eyes. He didn’t have as much anger towards Lucius as he had in the war, but… “Doesn’t that all depend on whether your parents accept me as your mate?”

*

Draco lifted Harry’s chin so that he could see into his eyes. He never wanted his mate to look away from him. It was too much like not being able to see into his soul or feel him through the bond. And Harry did stare into his face after that tremor of looking down.

Just the way Draco wanted.

Draco bent over and said gently into his ear, “My parents have no choice about whether or not you are my mate. I _will_ make that clear to them. They can approve or disapprove, as they will. I am still going to be yours.”

Harry’s hand rose and clenched on his. His breathing began again, and Draco nestled into his neck. That Harry had been worried about losing him was as much confirmation of their bond as Draco required.

“But you’re right that they might not like you very much. That they might not agree to help us in any way. That’s why I want to go and speak to my father first.”

“Without me?”

Draco nodded. “Will you trust me to do that?”

Harry swallowed and said, “Of course. I—I love you, Draco. And I don’t think that you would betray me to your father.”

Draco blinked. He hadn’t expected Harry to name the fear he was obviously feeling outright like that, but then again, Harry was a different person than Draco when it came to the way he handled intimate information.

“Of course I won’t,” he murmured, and brushed his hand down Harry’s cheek. He looked at him once only, and then turned around and said in some determination, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Harry nodded and smiled after him, and sat down on a couch in front of the fireplace. When he flicked his wand, a golden clock appeared, shimmering in the air. It wasn’t a spell Draco knew. “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he said quietly.

Draco looked back again before he picked up the Floo powder. Harry was waiting for him, quietly, his arms clasped around his knees.

Draco took a deep breath, cast the Floo powder into the flames, and shouted, “Malfoy Manor!”

*

He came out, with his wings banged and bruised, in the small parlor that his parents used for receiving guests they were uncertain they wanted to welcome. Draco lifted his chin. He’d never been shunted here before. Very well, then. He thought he could understand some of how his parents were feeling about this.

It didn’t matter. He would still have Harry as his mate _and_ support from his family. Anything else was unacceptable.

When he straightened up, a house-elf appeared, bowed, and disappeared again. Draco stood waiting, his wings spread and fluttering and his hands in loose fists at his sides. His heart was beating harder than it had been any time they faced the Veela of Asovima.

 _It doesn’t matter,_ he told himself again and again. _We are going to be a family._

His mother walked into the room and stood for a moment looking at him. Her eyes had crinkled up. Draco honestly couldn’t tell whether she was displeased or not, and that frightened him a little.

Mother looked down and sighed, and then looked up again. “The rumors didn’t lie, then,” she said quietly.

Draco shook his head. “Are you still going to welcome me as—your son?”

Mother moved forwards and put her hands on Draco’s shoulders, examining his wings without touching them. Draco was grateful for that. He only really wanted Harry touching his wings.

“I am,” Mother said finally. “Whether your father will think himself able to do this, I have no idea.”

Draco sighed and leaned forwards to kiss her. It had to be on the cheek rather than the lips, now that he was mated, but at least he still had a parent to kiss. “Thank you, Mother.”

“I find myself able to accept that you are a Veela,” Father’s resonant voice said then from the doorway. Draco looked up quickly and found Father standing there studying him coolly. “There is only one thing I am _unable_ to accept.”

“What is that?” Draco asked, and kept his voice as calm and clear as he could.

“That your mate is Harry Potter.” Father took a step forwards, cane swishing next to him. “Bonds that started as temporary can be broken even if made permanent, whereas bonds that come from a Veela’s free choice cannot. Choose someone worthier of you, Draco, take them as a mate, and break this bond, and then you will have my blessing.”


	19. In Shock

Draco stared at his father, and moments passed, and no one said anything. Then Draco turned to Mother and said, “I want you to know something about Harry.”

“Draco.” Father had taken a step forwards as if he thought he could reclaim attention Draco didn’t want to give him.

It wasn’t an effort to keep looking at his mother’s eyes—patient, resigned, and upset for him. “Harry isn’t the arrogant bully I thought he was. His greatest wish is for someone to love him quietly, without caring about his fame. He saved my life by agreeing to bond with me. He actually resisted changing the temporary bond to a full one, because he thought I wouldn’t want that once I recovered from the Veela influence.”

“Why in the world didn’t you take him up on that, Draco?”

“That’s the reason I fell in love with him,” Draco continued, speaking only to his mother. “Because he wanted to spare me all the consequences he could. Because he cared about me even when I was making his life more difficult. Because my dignity and my needs _matter_ to him.” Draco settled his wings more strongly on his shoulders. “I’m not going to break my bond with him for any temptation that you could offer me. I’ll take my leave.”

He’d barely moved towards the fireplace when Father shouted, hoarsely, “And what about the money you’re expecting to inherit from me? Do you care about _that_ temptation?”

Draco halted and tilted his head back at his father with utter disdain. “Why do _you_ care so much about keeping Harry out of the family?”

“He’s a half-blood!”

Draco sighed. “I abandoned those beliefs because I learned they were nonsense, Father. I honestly thought you’d done the same thing. So Harry having Muggle grandparents is all that matters to you? I could marry someone who spent the family fortune with abandon and hated me and caused public scandals, but it would be fine as long as their blood was pure?”

Father only clenched his fists. “Of course I don’t want to see you paired to someone who would scorn everything we stand for.”

“Then—”

“But Potter _does_ ,” Father said, speaking so quickly that Draco thought the expression on his face was probably speaking a great deal of his _own_ words. “You don’t understand, Draco. Potter still says that we were wrong in public every day, simply by existing. That I was wrong to follow the Dark Lord. That pure-blood beliefs and families are a weakness more than a strength.”

“You were wrong.”

Father raised a hand and then dropped it slowly to his side, probably because he’d finally realized the words had already flown and he couldn’t shield himself from them. He stared at Draco with no expression except the pale flame of his rage burning in his eyes.

Draco shrugged at him. “Voldemort would have condemned me for turning into a Veela. He would have thought it was a weakness to be anything but a pure human wizard. I’m happy with Harry, Father. That matters more to me than all the gold in the world.”

“You’d let me disown you?”

“I couldn’t stop you, since you do still hold that power.” Draco smiled a little to see how that pale flame burned even hotter. Honestly, “But I’m not making you do it. You’re the only one who can choose that course of action.”

“You are _worthless_ as a son.”

Father turned and stormed out of the room. Draco breathed out slowly. He hadn’t disowned Draco yet, at least, and Draco knew he would feel the unmistakable magical effects when it happened, including no longer being welcome in Malfoy Manor. But he didn’t have his father’s cooperation in keeping the papers away from Harry, either. He shook his head and faced the fireplace.

“You still have a mother.”

“Of course I do,” Draco said, coming to a stop and looking at her in surprise. “But I can’t ask you to act against Father.”

“Someone in this room just said that he did not control the actions of his parents.” Mother moved forwards and looped her arm through Draco’s. “I have as much experience in manipulating the press as your father does. Let us see whether this mate of yours is worth it.”

*

Harry stood up and frowned a little when he saw two figures coming back through the fire. Even though he hadn’t wanted to tell Draco, he had been absolutely unconvinced that Lucius Malfoy would agree to help them, let alone return with Draco to the house so soon.

But there they were—

No, wait, it was _Narcissa_ Malfoy. And by the gentle smile she gave him as she stepped away from the flames and dusted the soot off her robes, she remembered that she had saved his life, and that he had spoken up for her after the war. Harry hadn’t thought that meant they owed each other anything, but he supposed she might be doing this more for Draco than him.

Then Draco claimed his attention, immediately coming across to Harry and embracing him with both wings, delicately sniffing his neck. Harry blinked. “Are you all right, Draco?’ he asked, reaching up to clasp his shoulder.

“ _You’re_ all right,” Draco said, and then stepped back and nodded. “No one tried to hurt you while I was gone. No one tried to touch you.”

Harry caught Narcissa’s eye from over Draco’s shoulder, and flushed. He would have tried to disentangle himself from Draco’s hold, but _that_ was probably doomed to failure. “Um, Draco, of course I’m safe.”

“I had to make sure.”

Narcissa smiled a little, and said, “And that is the power of the Veela bond. Your father was ridiculous to suggest that you might break it.”

“ _Break_ it?” Harry felt himself stiffening almost as much as Draco, although Draco’s fluffed feathers and soft growl were undoubtedly more impressive. “Why would he want to do that? Didn’t Draco explain—”

“He did. But my husband pointed out ways in which bonds that started as temporary ones could be broken.” Narcissa shook her head, pursing her lips in a way that would have made Harry turn around and head the other way if he saw that face on an Auror coming towards him. It would mean paperwork at _best_. “He still weighs your blood status higher than anything else you have done.”

“Because he’s an _idiot_ ,” Draco interjected.

Narcissa frowned. “Draco. Do not call your father an idiot. I think the insult ‘imbecile’ more fitting.”

Harry snorted before he could stop himself. He would never have thought to hear Draco Malfoy’s mother and Lucius Malfoy’s wife say _that_. Narcissa smiled at him, the pursed lips relaxing in a way that he could appreciate.

“That’s better. I don’t enjoy having the man who defeated the Dark Lord staring at me in terror.”

Harry thought of objecting that it had been wariness and not terror, but thought better of it. “My blood status doesn’t weigh with you?”

Narcissa sighed. “In the world where we came out of the war standing higher than before, perhaps it would. But the only status we have now is the status of human beings. I want Draco to choose someone who will make him happy and treat him with dignity. And I can see that you do. Even at the cost of your own.”

Harry felt his face flush when he realized that she was looking meaningfully at the wing that Draco still had wrapped around his shoulders. “I don’t—I mean, I _like_ Draco touching me that way.”

“That might be too much information, Harry.”

The look on Narcissa’s face said it wasn’t. Harry continued as doggedly as he could, while making sure that he skirted details that Narcissa _didn’t_ need to know. “I wanted Draco to be free at first. I agreed to the temporary bond because I was sure it _would_ be temporary and Draco just needed to survive until we reached the Veela enclave. But we needed each other more than that. And I couldn’t resist him.”

Narcissa nodded slowly. “So you did not give in because you wanted to be indulged, and you did not give in only because Draco required it of you. Good. I would not want my son to be bound either to a selfish hedonist or a selfless martyr.”

“ _Mother_.”

“It is true.”

“I’m neither,” said Harry, although the back of his neck prickled even _saying_ that. Honestly, on a day-to-day basis, he just didn’t talk about himself all that much. “Draco and I balance each other. We still need to talk sometimes about some of the displays that we both indulge in, but we know it, and we _do_ talk.”

“Better and better, then.” Narcissa nodded and faced Draco. “Your father is a fool, also a permissible word. I will defend you to the papers. For now, I want you to remain either indoors or in a place that the wizarding public doesn’t frequent. I am going to paint you through my words first.”

Draco smiled. Harry added his own tentative smile to that. He didn’t trust Narcissa as much as Draco obviously did, but he knew that she wouldn’t harm them. There was no way to throw a bad light on Harry without making it reflect on Draco, at the moment.

“We _are_ supposed to be on holiday,” Draco said, and tucked his head down so that he could nuzzle against the side of Harry’s neck. Harry started, then relaxed into it, hard as that was to do with Narcissa watching. “I’d like to take Harry to some of my favorite places. I suppose that Father won’t know if we use the cottage in France?”

“Of course not.” Narcissa inclined her head. “And that will be a good place to do some flying and accustom Harry to the life he will now lead.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the first time that Draco has visited the Manor since he returned,” Narcissa said, with a slight smile for Harry. “That means that you have not yet been shown the wealth that is now yours by right.”

Harry just shook his head a little. “The only thing I need to make me happy is Draco,” he said, and wondered why Draco flushed. It was true. “We could live here or any place that Draco wants to be, and that would still—”

“And right now, I want to live at the cottage in France.”

Harry blinked and shut up. Draco’s eyes were shining with such determination, similar to but less lustful than the determination he’d showed Harry when they were still in the Veela dimension. He nodded slowly.

“Good.” Draco smiled and curled a wing even tighter around Harry’s shoulders. “We can trust you to take care of any impertinent questions here, Mother?”

“Of course you can, Draco.”

Harry, still a little bewildered, found Draco leading him towards the fireplace. He nodded and banished the worries from his mind forcefully. If Draco’s mother was going to remain here to take care of things, and he was on holiday from Auror duties anyway, then he wouldn’t worry. “Your cottage is hooked up to the Floo?”

“It is.” Draco curled his head down and nuzzled gently against Harry’s ear. “I want you to take us there. The address is _Draco’s Home._ ”

Harry snorted a little as he reached for the Floo powder to cast into the flames. “They gave it to you before this?”

“Yes. Although my father could still access it if he wanted to. But Mother will keep him busy enough that he won’t even think of it.”

“Trust me for that, Draco.”

Harry managed one more weak, stunned smile at Narcissa before he had to call out the Floo address, and then they whirled away, Draco sheltering him in both silvery wings and crooning a little as if that would encourage Harry to relax. Harry swallowed and straightened up as they stepped out onto an alien hearth.

He looked around the drawing room, and then he looked around more slowly. Then he glanced at Draco and hoped that he was managing to convey honest surprise and not sarcasm. “This is a _cottage_?”

“My standards,” Draco said a little haughtily, “determine where we live. You said so yourself.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, still a little dazed. He looked again at the walls, so gleaming with gilding and garlands and glow that he honestly couldn’t tell what they were made of. A movement across the room startled him, but then he realized it was only his own reflection in a mirror. The mirror’s frame was made of silver and carved with shining serpents. The serpents had rubies for eyes.

Harry rubbed his own eyes. Draco took his hand and kissed it, looking at him anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“Just a little overwhelmed,” Harry said. “How many floors does this thing have?”

“Just five.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. Draco raised his back. “I know that this isn’t what you’re used to, but you’ll _get_ used to it,” he said, and gently rubbed his finger across the top of Harry’s knuckles. “My standards, your standards. We’ll manage to meet in the middle.” He paused and tilted his head down, so that Harry thought he would nuzzle his neck again. But instead, Draco peered into his eyes. “No part of you longs for this?”

“I used to dream of living in a grand house somewhere when I was a kid.”

For a second, Draco’s hand tightened crushingly on his. “And?”

“Then I grew up and realized I wouldn’t.”

“If you want to act a bit childish while we’re here, it’s not as if I would mind,” Draco said softly as he drew Harry towards a staircase. “I want to indulge you. Pamper you. Not in ways that distress you, but anything you want and that it wouldn’t distress you to receive…yes, I want to give that to you.”

Harry swallowed slowly. Yes, he understood that, and he could think of all sorts of things he wanted. He simply wasn’t used to thinking they could be in his grasp, so asking for them had seemed pointless.

“Harry? What do you want?”

Harry hesitated, then gave in. They were nearly out of the room, into a corridor that actually might be made of jade, the color green it glowed. “I’d like to spend the night on a bed with silk sheets. I always wondered what it really felt like and whether it was so much more comfortable than an ordinary bed, the way the stories said.”

“The answer is yes.” Draco draped a wing around Harry’s shoulders and drew him upstairs. “This way.”

*

Harry was asleep.

Draco sat back and stared at him. Then he glanced around the bedroom. Honestly, it was one of the plainest in the cottage. He’d thought about trying to introduce Harry to one of the fancier ones, but he’d decided that Harry would probably revolt.

This one was alive with blue and green colors, subtle enchantments in the marble that shifted the stone back and forth between those shades, and always made Draco feel as if he was standing underwater—which, in truth, made him much more relaxed than anything except flying could. The bed was large and round, and had those silken sheets Harry had wanted marked with the same enchantment. Harry had lain down on them and then laughed in wonder.

“What is it?” Draco had asked, wings spread, ready to fly and get something else if Harry wanted it.

“It just feels like I’m drifting on water. That’s all. It feels so good.” Harry’s face had changed, and he’d reached up a hand. “Come on, Draco…”

And they’d made love, and Harry had gone to sleep, sprawled out the way Draco was looking at him now, his hands thrown back to rest on the pillows, his body squirming and making a nest of its own out of silk and satin.

Draco stroked Harry’s hip gently, but that didn’t wake him up. Neither did the soft crackle of the fire from the hearth nearby, or the way that Draco shifted back and forth on the bed. Harry was sleeping the slumber of the truly relaxed, which Draco knew was a compliment. Auror training would induce a kind of paranoia.

Harry had to trust him completely, to sleep like this.

Draco swallowed. There were so many things that he didn’t understand about Harry. If he’d really wanted to know what it was like to sleep on silk sheets, for one thing, why not just Transfigure his own?

But that didn’t seem to have occurred to him. Or—and Draco was afraid this was the truth, even if Harry would have denied it awake—Harry was convinced on some level that he didn’t _deserve_ that level of magnificence. Or comfort. Or care.

He hadn’t been able to see his own face when he was talking with Mother, either. As if he was utterly surprised that she would agree to help, as if he assumed she would turn on him at any moment.

 _He’s so scarred,_ Draco thought, and didn’t mean the fading one on Harry’s brow. That mattered less to him than the slightest of the breaths Harry uttered. _He might urge me to give him up if there was a way the bond could be broken. I can’t let him speak with Father without me there. I can’t let him think that Father is the only Malfoy who matters, either._

Draco lay down slowly behind Harry at last, stretching out his wings and draping them so that they rested comfortably on pillows and wouldn’t get broken or have crushed feathers, but would also surround Harry in warmth. Then he closed his eyes.

He would make the most of this holiday, when Harry didn’t have to worry about dashing off to save someone else. He would show Harry what it meant to be loved and cherished, not just by someone wealthy, not just by a Veela, but by someone who adored him.

_And when we go back, we’ll understand each other better._


	20. Draco's Holiday

“What do you want to do today?”

“Besides look around the ‘cottage’?”

Draco snorted a little as he watched Harry devour the scones on his plate, the thick elf-made ones drizzled with as much as honey and butter as wouldn’t actually make them float away. He wondered idly if Harry even realized that he was eating far more than he usually did in less luxurious surroundings. Granted, Draco had only seen Harry eat in the other dimension thus far, and maybe he’d been too cautious there to feast. But being at Draco’s Home was good for him, whether he realized it or not.

“Yes, besides that.” Draco spread his wings, wanting to draw Harry’s attention to them. Sometimes he just wanted to enjoy the praises of his mate. From the obedient way Harry’s eyes followed the feathers, he was going to get plenty of attention.

“Well, I’d like to go flying. Maybe explore this part of France that you said the cottage is in. I’ve never been to France.” Harry sopped up some butter from his plate with the side of a scone and looked thoughtful.

Draco forcibly prevented himself from reacting. Of course _he_ had been to France multiple times as a child, but Harry couldn’t be the only wizard who had never gone abroad. A provincial lot, most British wizards.

It was still a bloody shame, and one that Draco intended to correct as soon as possible. “Let’s go to the village, then. As far as they’re concerned, we’re only a lot of bloody rich people who come here to spend the summer holidays sometimes.”

“And even though it’s not summer?”

“Bloody rich people can be eccentric all they want.” Draco stood up, grinned at Harry, and Summoned one of the heavier robes that he had here in the closets. It was one that had fit him a few years ago. He carefully made some Transfiguration adjustments to the cloth, and then held it out to Harry. “Wear this.”

“Won’t the Muggles stare?” Harry asked, but he wrapped the robes around his shoulders. It made something in Draco ache, softly. He could imagine that Harry didn’t often do what other people wanted him to.

“No,” said Draco. “Watch.” He flicked his finger against the collar of the robe, and watched smugly as it began to shrink and waver. It was good to know that the spells he’d put on the clothes hadn’t decayed in the last few years. Then again, with the amount of Preservation Charms he’d cast on them, they might not have dared to.

Harry blinked a second later when he found himself wearing a heavy dark coat, almost as long as he was, with a trim of dark fur around the collar and plenty of pockets. He shook his head at Draco. “The fur? Seriously?”

“Just say it’s fake if anyone asks,” Draco told him airily, as he Transfigured his own robes. He had to leave holes for the wings, but a Blurring Charm around them would make anyone looking straight at him only see a curl of warm air and then what they thought was his back.

“What is it really?”

“Part of the spell.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him and then tucked his wand down inside one of the coat’s pockets. “You realize this is absurdly heavy for the weather?”

“It won’t feel any heavier than the robes,” Draco promised him, and took his arm, and Disapparated.

*

Harry had to hide a smile as he watched Draco watching him eat. Apparently seeing his mate feeding himself was a Veela’s next favorite thing to feeding his mate. Draco hadn’t given up pushing little cups of chocolate and croissants and delicate sliced tropical fruit at him until Harry had told him his stomach would burst if he had to finish it all.

And then he leaned back and fastened his eyes on Harry’s fingers and watched him picking up the slices of bread that he dipped in the chocolate and ferry them to his mouth as if there had never been anything so fascinating.

Harry swallowed and chewed and wondered that he didn’t find it more unnerving. Then again, he hadn’t had lots of people interested in watching him eat, unless they were trying to poison him. And the Dursleys had had a vested interest in seeing him _not_ eat.

It was rather pleasant, to think that perhaps he had someone in his life now who was as unlike the Dursleys as it was possible to be.

“Do you want anything more?” Draco asked when he finally pushed the plate away.

“No. It’s going to _burst_ , remember?” Harry stood up from the café table and waited obediently for Draco to finish fussing over his Transfigured robe, adjusting it for reasons best known to a Veela. It made his stomach feel heavy and warm, which was one reason to allow it. “Now, come _on_.”

The village was old and quiet. Harry didn’t see a lot of children. There were heavy branches hanging over stone walls, and dusty streets, and people who watched them pass with raised eyebrows before they disappeared into small shops. It could have been a place in Britain, but Harry was listening, and he caught whispers and snatches of French, and that was enough to content him.

_I might have time to get used to this. I might come here again._

It made the heavy warmth in his stomach even heavier. Harry leaned against Draco and sighed.

“Are you tired? Do you need to go back to the cottage?”

Harry laughed a little. That was the bad side of Draco’s constant watching over him, but on the other hand, he _truly_ couldn’t bring himself to mind right now. It would probably only become tiresome later. “No. But I was wondering if we could get outside the village and go flying?”

“We’ll have to Summon the—”

“No. I meant, _you_ take me flying.”

Draco paused, and although it was hard to tell under the charm he’d cast over his wings to keep anyone from seeing them, Harry thought they quivered. He licked his lips and murmured, “All right.”

After that, Draco practically hurried him out of the village and to the low russet hills. Harry laughed as they climbed up them. Draco was breathing hard, and Harry didn’t think it had anything to do with being out of the shape. He simply couldn’t take his eyes from Harry, and his mouth was gleaming with water at the corners.

“Now,” Draco said, turning when they were as near to the top of the hill as made no difference, “I’m going to cast enough charms that no one will notice us when they look in this direction. It won’t affect the view you get when we fly, I promise.”

“I know,” Harry said, and smiled at him. “I trust you.”

Draco shivered again and cast the charms without taking his eyes off Harry. Harry watched him and wanted to shake his head, but Draco might misunderstand that, so he didn’t.

_It really matters, the fact that I’m letting him take care of me. Not so much the actual caretaking. That I want it, that I asked for it._

_Do I really have that much power over him?_

It made Harry feel a different kind of shiver in his stomach, one that was cooler and that made him want to cradle Draco close and protect him in his arms, since _he_ didn’t have wings. He would protect that vulnerability. He would take good care of it. He wanted to lean up and nuzzle Draco’s neck right now, but he thought that might disrupt the charms more than Draco’s concentration on him would.

In the end, he stood there and extended his arms so Draco could hold him under his armpits. But Draco shook his head. “I’d like to hold you by the sides,” he said, half-bowing his head and extending his wings. “Will you let me?”

“Of course,” Harry said, dazed a little by his manner. Draco kissed his cheek and gripped him on either side of his ribcage, then extended his wings and flapped so hard that Harry could feel small currents of magic traveling past his temples.

They lifted straight up off the top of the hill as if Harry was riding in a Muggle helicopter. He laughed aloud with joy as they swept over the small grass-clad valley beneath them and Draco’s wings fluttered and trembled and then _beat_. They lifted higher, and Harry tilted his head to watch green and gold and brown pass beneath.

It was so different from being on a broom, although he hadn’t thought it would be, at first. This wasn’t so much under his control. He had to relax and trust Draco, and he could lean his head back at any point and feel Draco’s soft, panting breath on his ear. He could almost drape himself over Draco’s arms, and still Draco would hold him tenderly and not let him fall.

_He never will._

*

Draco led Harry back into the cottage with insistent hands. They’d soared over the valley until even Harry, he thought, had to be satisfied, with his lungs full of rich scent; he’d laughed until his throat had to be sore. And his fingers were chilled when Draco finally landed and felt them, and tried to rub some life back into them.

But Harry lingered in the doorway of the cottage, and laughed some more, and kissed Draco. Draco gently pinned his cold hand against the door and shook his head. “Kiss me all you like when we’re back in the cottage. You’re too cold right now.”

Harry blinked and then smiled, slowly, lazily, instead of resisting the way Draco had thought he would. “You worry about me all the time, don’t you?” he whispered, his hand cupping Draco’s chin for a second.

Draco nodded and kissed him gently on the forehead, finally urging him inside to stand near the fire. “And there are plenty of rooms in the cottage that I haven’t shown you yet, you know.”

Harry suffered Draco to wrap him in a new, dry pair of robes—not that there was much moisture out there, but there had been some—and cast Warming Charms on his hands. Draco also had him stand in front of the fireplace in the small drawing room. Then he turned and escorted Harry up the stairs

Harry gasped a little when Draco swung open the first door, into a bedroom that he might have had Harry sleep in if he hadn’t thought it would be overwhelming. “Holy _shit_. How much gold is in here?”

“I don’t know the exact weight,” Draco admitted, wrapping his arms around Harry and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. The room glittered, as well it should. The bed was draped with swathes of cloth of gold, and the walls were either solid gold or—as Draco suspected—stone beneath thin sheets of gilding. The frames of the mirrors on the walls were golden as well, but at least the glass of the mirrors themselves provided a few pleasant breaks from all the ostentation. There was a mosaic on the ceiling that Draco didn’t _think_ had gold in it, since it was mostly gleaming ocean-blue glass, but shining phoenixes soared through it, and there might be real rubies in their eyes, if nothing else.

“It’s overwhelming.”

Draco grinned, because there wasn’t awe in Harry’s voice. “Decadent as hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Harry turned around and laughed up at him. “Did you have ancestors who actually _slept_ here?”

“I think they mostly used it to impress guests they felt were getting above their station.” Draco could feel himself relaxing more and more the longer they stood there. Harry didn’t seem upset. He wasn’t rejecting Draco, the way Draco had imagined he would. He was only interested, fascinated, a little disgusted. “But I wouldn’t put it past some of the people whose portraits I’ve met to claim it for their own.”

Harry’s hands clamped down on his arms. “I wish I had that,” he whispered.

“Golden bedrooms?”

“No, ancestral portraits. I really have no idea what my family is like. I mean, my father’s ancestors. I know well enough what my mother’s relatives were like and what they thought of me. And I know my grandparents’ names, and one great-grandfather. But beyond that…nothing.”

Draco leaned in closer, enfolding Harry. He could provide comfort in this moment, and he was grateful for it. “It’s possible that you do have ancestors with portraits, in some out-of-the-way place. We’ll look. And as for names, I know that my parents would have genealogical records listing them.”

“Names of _Potters_?”

“Why not? We intermarried with them, too.” Draco traced a line down Harry’s cheek, rejoicing in the confused expression he wore as he stared up at Draco—not because it was confusion, but because it was him depending on Draco, focused on him. “And they had to keep track of who they’d intermarried with recently, in case it turned out that the relationship was too close for another wedding to take place so soon.”

Harry shuddered and leaned harder against Draco. “I hope that isn’t the case with us. I mean, I know we won’t have blood children together, but it would be disturbing to be married to a close cousin.”

“Together,” Draco said. “Bonded.” He let his mind spin with happiness and leaned harder over Harry, then pulled him gently back into the corridor and shut the golden bedroom’s door. “Come on. Let’s look at some other rooms that actually have some taste to them.”

“I would believe your ancestors have taste even if you didn’t show them to me.”

“I _promise_ they aren’t as bad,” Draco said, and led Harry to his own favorite room, the one he’d spent the most time in when his parents brought him here as a child. When he opened the door, Harry flinched as if in anticipation of more gold, but then relaxed and sighed a little, looking around and nodding.

Draco smiled. This room’s theme was glass, but it had only one mirror, high on the wall where it was the perfect height for his mother to look herself in the eye. Instead, there were large windows, and gleaming glass tanks set into the walls and alive with curls of magic that formed the images of water and fish. Draco had believed they _were_ fish until he was five or so and realized they never responded when he tapped on the glass. Those tanks were deep and gleaming, mysterious, full of blues and greens that Draco had never seen anywhere else.

There was also a vitrine, and Harry went across to it at once. Then he caught his breath. Draco stood to his side this time, since standing behind him would have blocked the sight of most of the figures in the large case.

“You have ancestral figurines as well?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Draco leaned in closely enough that his breath fogged the glass. The vitrine was taller than he was, and the only parts of that weren’t made of glass were made of gleaming black ebony that vaguely reflected his face. “There’s only a spark of magic in them, though. Nothing like the portraits. Just enough to make them move and look like the ancestor they’re supposed to represent.”

Harry was still watching as a Malfoy woman with a high crown of blonde hair invited a wizard who Draco knew was Rigel Black to dance. He accepted, and they waltzed across the glass floor. The other Malfoy figurines, and the spouses they’d married, moved out of their way as if it were a coincidence. “It’s still amazing.”

“Yes.” Draco leaned in closer so that he could see Harry’s face. His expression was wistful. “I’d like your permission, eventually, to create a figurine of you and invest it with a bit of your magic.”

Harry jumped as though Draco had actually poked him. Then he swallowed and said, “Of—of course. I’d—be honored. Do you have one?”

“No. Traditionally, they’re made when a Malfoy gets married.” Draco sought for a moment, and finally located the miniatures of his parents over on the far side of the vitrine, on its third “floor,” seated together on a lacquer bench that loomed beside tiny and exquisite poppies made of faceted garnets. He chuckled to see them facing away from each other. “They can reflect the state of the marriage, at times.”

Harry followed his glance and blinked. Then he chuckled. “That is _amazing_.”

The depth of the reverence in his voice made Draco reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “We’ll have them made soon. Unless you want to wait on the ceremony itself? The figurines have to be enchanted as part of the marriage ceremony, or whatever else a couple does to substitute for it.”

“If you have a date you’d choose, then we can use that one.” Harry turned towards him, and his eyes shone as clear and steady as they had right after their temporary bond became a full one. “Otherwise, I’m happy to bond, or marry, or whatever you want to call it, as soon as we return to Britain.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Draco said. His mouth was overflowing with sweetness, as if he’d chomped on too much candyfloss for him to swallow. His vision was fuzzy as he reached out and cradled Harry’s face in his hands.

“What? What is it?”

Draco leaned in and kissed him lingeringly without answering, for a moment. Then he pulled back and shook his head. “Just that you’re so sweet. And brave. And everything I don’t deserve.”

“Don’t think of deserving,” Harry whispered, his hand resting on Draco’s forehead for a second. “Think of what we’re going to _do_.”

And Draco did, and Harry was right, he thought smugly as he swept Harry into his arms and carried him back towards that more modest bedroom where they’d spent the night and already made love once.

_This is much better._


	21. Scars and Talking

“You have beautiful gardens.”

“I can hardly take credit for them,” Draco said ruefully as he leaned over next to Harry. They were on a balcony that Harry had at first mistaken for wrought iron. Then Draco had looked at him with one eyebrow raised, and Harry had to admit that it was unlikely the Malfoy builders of a five-floor cottage would content themselves with wrought iron. It was apparently an alloy of steel and silver, and it shimmered with dizzying reflections, and it was covered with dragons along the top. “I’m here even less often than the Manor. The house-elves are the ones who can tend them.”

“But you’ll come back more often now that you and I are bonded,” Harry said, watching the gardens. That was easier than confronting the look of intense passion Draco was directing at him right now. “And they’re still beautiful.”

They were. Harry hadn’t really had a chance to look at the gardens of Malfoy Manor, but he’d always imagined them as overly fussy and formal. These were still laid-out in a recognize pattern—flowers of different colors in different star-shaped or circular patches of stone, with grassy paths between—but the circles and stars danced around each other. Red and yellow led to nodding orange roses, with delicate pink flowers clumped near the red ones. And shimmering silver and blue flowers surrounded purple iris. The garden gave him something new to look at every time he glanced at it.

“You know a lot about gardens?”

Harry came back to himself with a start. Draco was staring at him in a slightly different way now, that intense look that meant he wanted to know everything. “Well, I’m not a Herbology genius. That’s Neville, you know.” He smiled, but Draco didn’t, and Harry fidgeted a little with his teacup. “But I like the way this one is laid out, even if it looks a little strange to me without trees to shade it.”

“You like gardens?”

Harry moved his fingers on his teacup’s handle, and said nothing.

“The way you’re resisting makes me think it’s a more important question than I knew.” Draco’s voice was quiet. He reached out and gently ran his fingers down the back of Harry’s knuckles, urging his grip into relaxing, and led him over to the small table on the balcony. “Please tell me, love.”

Harry would have, except he was afraid it wouldn’t be an isolated fact; it would lead into the kind of conversation that he really didn’t want to have. On the other hand, the only ones safer than Draco to have it with were his friends, and they already knew most of it.

“All right,” he said. “Muggles have no house-elves, as you know. So—um—I was the one who worked on my aunt’s garden. I know a lot about it. I wouldn’t say I _love_ it. I mean, the process of gardening. But I like the way this one is laid out.”

He thought that might be bland enough to get Draco off the subject, but his fingers tightened over Harry’s.. “You were their house-elf.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry grimaced. It seemed he’d led right into what he’d hoped to avoid. He looked up. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t explain where some of the scars you have came from—unless they were making you garden with swords.”

Harry sighed. “Those come from my cousin. He hated me, so he convinced his friends to chase me and beat me up. Harry Hunting, they called it.”

He would have gone on, but he had to fall silent in surprise, because a white mist was manifesting around Draco’s body. His eyes blazed and shimmered with hatred, and he reached out one hand as if he was going to squeeze the throat of someone who wasn’t present. Harry blinked and shook his head, letting his hand rest on Draco’s wrist. “Calm down.”

“Where are they?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, beloved, it doesn’t suit you. Where are they? Your cousin and your other relatives?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Harry said, and Draco must have heard that honesty in his voice, because he paused and the pale mist coiled back a little. “They left during the war with some of the people who were part of the Order of the Phoenix, and I haven’t seen them since.”

“They still need to pay for what they did.”

“They did,” Harry said, and the conviction in his voice made the mist dissipate further. “My cousin and I made up before they left. And my aunt and uncle…stewing in their own petty, vicious juices is enough.”

“No, it’s _not_.” The mist was surging back, making Draco’s eyes shine like mirrors with a strong light trained on them. “How could you let them go and not wreak vengeance on them, Harry?”

“Because I believe what I told you.” Harry stared him in the eye. “Nothing I could do to my aunt and uncle is as bad as being _them_. And I wouldn’t want my cousin harmed. I’ve dealt with it, Draco. I don’t want to bring it up and live through it again. I _certainly_ don’t want anyone else taking vengeance for me.”

“That explains why you confessed it so openly to me, right?” Draco’s hand was curled, his claws coming close to breaking a teacup. “Because you’re _over_ it and you don’t _need_ anyone to take your part and you never hear the crying of the little boy who was being beaten up by his cousin at night?”

“Fair point,” Harry said, and grimaced. “Listen, the main thing is that I _really_ don’t like thinking about it. But when I tell someone who doesn’t already know, they always react like this. Well, either that or they’d want to publish articles about it, which is another reason I don’t tell a lot of people. Draco, it’s over. It’s in the past.”

“You’re still suffering from it. The scars will always be there.”

“I know. But it’s not as though most of them are bad, and thank Merlin I’m not a model or someone who would have to—”

Draco leaned forwards with a snarl. Harry froze in surprise. He didn’t think he’d heard anything like that since they’d been back on Earth. “You know _as well as I do_ that I’m not talking about the physical scars! The way you keep this quiet, as if everyone knowing about it would blame _you_ and not the monsters who caused this. The way you flinch away from someone touching you when you can’t see where they’re coming from. You distrusted my mother just on principle, not because she’s a Malfoy and might have tried to hurt you once, but because that’s what you do. You don’t believe people half the time. You’re always braced for what’s going to happen in case they let you down—”

“That has _nothing_ to do with the Dursleys and _everything_ to do with the _entire fucking wizarding world_ believing I was a murderer and a lunatic whenever they wanted!” Harry was on his feet, and he knew he was ranting, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t prevent the heat that flooded through him from rising again. “Of course I think everyone but my closest friends are going to let me down, they always have! Even now they stalk me for articles, you saw that when we were coming out of the Ministry—”

“And you don’t think that’s rooted in your childhood?” Draco’s wings lifted him straight out of the chair, over the table, and down next to Harry. Harry started, which only gave Draco more time to wrap Harry in his wings and pull him roughly in to his chest. “Of course it is,” Draco murmured to him, and held him some more when Harry would have pulled free. “You’re not weak, but you’re right, you needed to mistrust people to survive. Only you’ve come to the point where you have the power not to need that anymore. I want to help you recover. See how good things can be when you can relax around people like my mother.”

Harry shut his eyes. He wanted to say it was all in the past and didn’t matter, that why did it _matter_ that he’d been in the cupboard or not had enough food sometimes, or that he’d had Dudley kick him in the stomach hard enough that he’d vomited blood once or twice? Draco couldn’t travel back in time and save him from it, and Harry was fine now.

“You have the power not to need that anymore,” Draco repeated, fiercely, into his ear. “And the people.”

“What?”

“My mother will protect you. And my father, once he overcomes this stubborn fit.” Draco slid his hand slowly up Harry’s arm. “And me.”

“They’ll protect me for as long as we’re bonded, sure.”

“You think the bond is going to end anytime soon?” Draco’s wings were hunched and his voice haughty. His hand froze on Harry’s elbow.

“I mean—it’s just, if you _do_ find someone you want more—”

Draco leaned against him, so hard that Harry ended up pinned against the side of the table. Draco nuzzled into his hair. “I tell you this is permanent, and you still question it,” he said, quietly enough that Harry could make out the hint of a growl to the tone.

“Draco—”

“I am not going to find anyone I want more,” Draco said, his voice pounding in the words like nails. “I am not going to find anyone else I desire to bond with. My father brought up the possibility, but my father is an idio—imbecile. You are _mine._ And I want you to acknowledge that the Dursleys did do you that damage,” he added, shifting back to something like a normal tone.

Harry closed his eyes. “Does that mean I need to talk about it?”

“Of _course_ you need to talk about it.”

“I mean that I could just acknowledge you’re right, and that would be it. No need for an in-depth discussion.”

“Harry.”

Draco’s voice was so gentle, which Harry knew meant he wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. He swallowed. Draco brushed his fingers across Harry’s eyelids. “I want you to look at me, please.”

Harry did that. Draco’s eyes were glittering with passion, determination, strength. Harry had never seen them that way.

“Not everything all at once,” Draco said. “But listen. The fact that you think I would ever abandon you, that you should give me up before I hurt you—that’s their legacy. Acknowledging it means saying that, not something empty about me being right. You wouldn’t believe it even if you said that, would you?” His hand was fussing with Harry’s fringe, swinging it back and forth as if he didn’t know whether or not he wanted it to cover Harry’s scar.

Harry swallowed and resisted the urge to shake his head. He caught control of his breath with a gasp and said, “I offered to let you go because I love you that much, Draco. If you do find someone you like better than me, I want you to have that choice.”

“And if I said that I’d never find someone I like better than you?”

Harry frowned before he could stop himself. Draco nodded. “You can’t really believe that. Part of you always thinks that you’re second best. A burden.” Harry flinched, and Draco paused. “That’s the way they referred to you?”

Harry managed to clear his throat. It seemed this conversation was happening, and what Draco wanted was to have it. “A freak, actually.”

Draco hissed, and for a second his wings flared out around him. Then he said, “Tell me what you can of it. I want to know.” He guided Harry back to the small table in the middle of the balcony and sat down again, though this time beside Harry instead of across the table. “I promise not to murder the Dursleys no matter what you say. Even if I want to.”

Harry shot him a concerned glance. He was more worried about how hard the conversation would be on Draco than on him.

But from the stern gaze Draco leveled him with, he knew what Harry was feeling and wanted the truth anyway. Harry swallowed, nodded, and said, “I suppose that you should know about the cupboard.”

Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this. He wanted to freeze, run, hide, keep the words from escaping just in case Draco somehow used them against him later.

But that was only more proof that Draco had been right to instigate this conversation, so he had to keep going.

*

Draco watched Harry carefully as he leaned across the table to put his hand on Harry’s. It really felt, through the bond, as if his mate was about to grow wings of his own and launch himself off the balcony rather than talk about this.

 _I was right._ But Draco took no pleasure in the knowledge. He didn’t want to corner Harry and force it out of him. He’d planned to just have that acknowledgment and move along.

But then his Veela instincts had started clamoring at the notion that Harry didn’t even want to admit that he’d been abused, that he wanted to turn away from the notion and hide it forever. And Draco had started feeling as though, if he didn’t raise the subject now, he would never get the chance. So he had pressed it, and now he was going to hear something about a cupboard.

“A cupboard?” Draco asked aloud, letting his own confusion inflect his voice.

Harry dashed his free hand across his forehead as if his scar still pained him the way it had in the days of Voldemort. But Draco knew— _knew_ , absolutely, with a Veela’s instinctive knowledge—that that wasn’t it. “Where they kept me. My bedroom for ten years.”

Draco breathed slowly through the rage. He’d made a promise that he wouldn’t hunt the Dursleys down and exact vengeance on them, he reminded himself. Honestly, that was the only thing holding him in his seat right now. “Why did they do that?” he whispered.

“You think I understand them even now, Draco?” Harry shook his head. “I understand why they didn’t talk about magic in front of me, because they hated it and thought I would somehow not become a wizard if I grew up ignorant of my heritage. But the cupboard—I have no idea. They were just cruel.”

 _At least he can admit that much._ Draco gently squeezed Harry’s hand. “How did you survive there?”

“They didn’t try to kill me, although I think maybe Dudley wanted to sometimes.” Harry gave him a wry look. “How does anyone survive being in a place where no one likes them much? I did.”

“What else did they do to you?”

Harry’s face grew shadowed, but at least he seemed committed to answering honestly. Draco was glad; he was tired of fighting that particular battle. There were so many more interesting ones he wanted to fight, on _behalf_ of his mate, not against him.

“They didn’t give me food sometimes,” Harry said quietly. “They would tell me to go to the cupboard and forget about meals. And they had me do all sorts of chores. Outside, inside. Weeding the garden. Cooking the meals. Cleaning the floor. Cleaning up anything they broke. Doing the dishes. Washing clothes. Anything they could think of.” He sighed and met Draco’s eyes. “Please don’t think I’m against the concept of doing work like that. I think a lot of wizards rely too much on house-elves, anyway. I _do_ think that we ought to get used to working with our magic and our hands instead of with their magic.”

Draco discounted that. It wasn’t the crux of the matter right now. Instead, that was Harry’s silly fear that Draco might think he was complaining too much, or being too selfish, or something like that. “Please never try to justify your relatives to me.”

“I’m not! I’m saying—”

“You’re saying that you don’t want to seem lazy, and that the chores they gave you weren’t bad. That’s wrong, Harry. They were _horrendous_. For them to rely on you like that, and then tell you that you’re worthless…” Draco shook his head. “You think it’s wrong of wizards to abuse their house-elves? And yet you can defend their treatment of you?”

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it, frowning. Draco smiled, a little. One less pleasant part of this task was confronting Harry with things that he had no ability to deny. He didn’t really want to be the one who brought Harry face-to-face with his unpleasant conceptions and broke him of them, but he would rather it was him than someone else.

“All right,” Harry said at last. “I wasn’t worthless, or a burden, or a freak, or lazy.”

Draco picked up both his hands and kissed them. “You’ll say that with more conviction, one day. But no, you weren’t. You’re not. Answer this, Harry. Do you think I could love someone who was like that?”

“No.”

Draco nodded. That at least was firm. “And do you think I love you?”

Harry met his eyes. “Of course you do.”

“Well, then.” Draco bent down and kissed Harry until he was losing the will to argue, and pulled Harry close against him before he flared his wings. “Let’s go and give you another lesson in why I love you and why you matter.”

“I _know_ I matter.”

“Then this will be an easy lesson.”

Any resistance Harry might have put up melted when Draco seized him and flew him off the balcony and towards the bedroom they liked. He leaned his head back against Draco’s collarbone and sighed. He really did love being held and flown around, it seemed.

Draco caressed the back of his neck as he landed gently on the upper balcony outside the bedroom. Harry smiled up at him, gently dazed.

 _He’ll believe it completely someday,_ Draco decided in contentment, and led Harry inside.


	22. Malfoys Who Are Not Idiots

"What's that?"

"A letter from my mum."

Harry spent a few minutes eating, his eyes on Draco. Draco was untying the letter from the leg of the owl with a slight frown. For a minute, Harry wondered if that meant that Narcissa wouldn't be able to help them, and Draco already suspected it because of the owl she'd sent or the parchment she'd written on or--

Harry cut himself off with a slight gasp of breath. No. He was trying to worry less about people betraying him or Draco deciding that he needed to find a different partner or side with the rest of his family instead of Harry. He had promised.

He looked back at Draco to find him watching with slightly raised eyebrows. Harry just nodded and returned to his scrambled eggs. He trusted Draco would tell him when the time was right.

"She's having some success with the lesser reporters," Draco said casually, when Harry had swallowed the last mouthful. "The ones who just report on you as celebrity gossip, not serious news. But she thinks that you'll need to give at least one public press conference regarding the political implications of our bonding for the ones who think that reporting on you is a matter of national importance."

"Political implications of our bonding?"

"Of course." Draco gave him a narrow smile that came off more like a grimace. "All the people who think that the Boy-Who-Lived shouldn't be bonding with a Death Eater, all the ones who think that a Veela bonding is some kind of enslavement, all the ones who think that an Auror shouldn't bond with a Dark wizard--"

Harry groaned and dropped his head on the table. "Of course."

"Are you ready to go back and face them?"

Harry blinked and looked up. Draco was considering him with such a serious expression that in that instant Harry just _knew_. He knew Draco would owl his mother if Harry asked and extend their holiday. He would let Harry stay here and hide from reporters, where no one else knew him and only one person cared. Harry could go somewhere in the Muggle world if he wanted, give up being an Auror, only cast the absolutely necessary spells, and Draco would follow him and defend him and do everything he could to take care of him.

That calmed Harry's churning stomach.

"Yes," he muttered, with a shake of his head. "We have to face them sooner or later, and I'd rather do it when your mother has earned some goodwill and it's pretty clear what we think of them."

Draco took up his hand and kissed it, looking delighted in a deep way that had more to do with the shine of his eyes than any open curve of his lips. "Good."

*

_He's stronger than he knows._

Draco only saw the little flinch Harry gave when he stepped out of the fireplace and into the crowd of reporters waiting in the Ministry Atrium because he was looking for it. By the time the reporters saw Harry and started shouting, Harry had put on the mask of a confident smile and was striding forwards.

 _So strong,_ Draco marveled as he followed behind Harry, his eyes skimming everything from who had a wand up their sleeves to who was reluctant to move out of Harry's way. _And all mine._

Harry stopped next to the Fountain and looked around. The more he looked, the more quiet spread. Draco snapped his wings off his back and then tucked them back again when he noticed some heads turning to look at him. Even granting that his mother would have picked the most compliant reporters she could, that was still impressive, for Harry to make everyone pay attention to him.

"Auror Potter! Is it true that you're mated to Draco Malfoy?"

Harry offered a friendly smile to the grey-haired witch who'd asked. Draco was sure, again, that he was the only one who saw the way Harry's foot twitched with the longing to step backwards. Draco stepped up behind him instead, lowering his head to nestle his chin against Harry's neck.

Everyone stared. Cameras flashed. Draco didn't mind. They would snap pictures of him snuggling with his mate. That was true enough, and it was a picture that would make some people decide he wasn't dangerous and Harry had suffered enough. That was a gain.

"We can't find out if you interrupt me every time I try to say something, can we?"

The reporters took the hint, and the yelling quieted down. Harry sighed a little and said, as if it wasn't a prepared speech, "Yes, I am mated to Draco Malfoy. It began as a temporary bond to save his life when we were on a mission for the Ministry together. But it's evolved into a true bond." He turned his head so that he was meeting Draco's eyes, his own soft. "One that I never want to give up."

Draco's body tingled. That shine, that vulnerability, that softness--that was the kind of thing Harry would ordinarily hide and keep from showing at all in front of other people. That he was willing to show it out in public made him braver than Draco's own parents had mostly been, who always kept their affection hidden no matter the impulse.

_I chose the right person._

"But why did it evolve into a _true_ bond?"

That was Rita Skeeter. Harry tensed, but didn't look away from Draco. "Because I fell in love."

Questions erupted as though they'd only been pent by respect until then. Draco snorted into Harry's neck. Right, as if the reporters had _any_ respect at all for his mate.

Harry soothed him with a gentle touch to his cheekbone, and said, "I can't answer your questions when you're shooting them like arrows."

That was enough to calm most of them down, but Skeeter still jumped in before anyone else. "Then you were carrying on an affair with Draco Malfoy all this time? Behind Michael Corner's back? Even _Ginny Weasley's_?" She looked absolutely delighted.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed softly, brushing his arm against Draco's as they both tensed. "Of course not--"

"But how could you fall in love so quickly?"

"I thought you would know that, Rita, seeing as you regularly print that I'm in love after the first date."

That caused Skeeter to pause enough that others could jump in. Draco half-shut his eyes and focused on the feeling of Harry leaning against him and his firm words when he said he'd fallen in love. He didn't have to consider his rivals. He didn't have to fear that Harry would leave him for them.

He wondered what Harry would say if he knew the tendency of Draco's thoughts. Reassurance? Incredulity that he and Draco had the same fears, of the other person wanting out of his half of the bond?

Then he felt the pressure of Harry's body on his increase, and opened his eyes to see how knowing Harry looked. He didn't need to know what Harry would say, because he already knew what Harry would _do_.

The interrogation went on for a while, with questions that Draco thought ridiculous (concerning things like the decorations and pudding they would choose for their bonding, and whether they would attend public galas together). Then, as the grey-haired woman who had tried to speak first paused for breath, Skeeter jumped in again.

“The Malfoys still have immense wealth even _after_ that little war,” Skeeter said, raising one hand as though the war had been a mass of cobwebs she could simply brush aside. “Do you intend to retire from the Aurors, Mr. Potter? Become a kept man, perhaps?”

Harry began to laugh.

It was the right response, Draco thought as he relaxed again from his instinctive need to spring forwards and beat Skeeter about the head with his wings for saying such ridiculous things about his mate. Harry didn’t instinctively know how to handle reporters, not in the way that Draco’s parents had evolved the skill, but sometimes he hit the right notes anyway.

_If his increased confidence comes from the bond…_

It was entirely possible that it did. Draco had heard about true bonds having all sorts of beneficial effects on the human half of the pairing, including making them more relaxed and more well-spoken.

“It was just a question, Mr. Potter. I don’t know why you’re laughing.” Skeeter was stiff and sulky.

“Because of the notion that I would simply give up everything I’ve worked so hard for,” Harry said. “And because of the notion that I’m tempted by wealth to that extent, when I have enough of my own.” He put his hand over Draco’s and squeezed, stilling the little tremor of agitation that had started there when Draco began to think that Harry might not let Draco take care of him in a way befitting his mate. Harry’s eyes were more than soft as he smiled up at Draco. “And because you don’t understand Draco at _all_ if you think he would ever ask me to retire from the Aurors.”

Draco ducked his head at once and let his chin rest against the top of Harry’s head, his eyelids drooping. Merlin, this man. Draco thought he could have courted people for years, searched among all the Veela enclaves in the other dimension, and flown over the whole of Earth, and never found anyone who matched him the way Harry did.

“But Veela are protective.”

“Yes, and they also want to make their mates happy above all else,” Harry said firmly. “This isn’t enslavement. This isn’t the kind of bond that corrupts people’s minds like one created by the Imperius Curse does. Draco knows it wouldn’t make me happy to retire from the Aurors and depend on him.”

“And the assault that we’ve heard rumors of?” someone else called out.

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you more information on that,” Harry said, “since it hasn’t come to trial yet. But yes, I was assaulted by a fellow Auror. He’s being investigated, and I’m on holiday to recover and to settle my bond.”

“We heard _you_ assaulted _him_!”

“Heard from who?”

That made the grey-haired woman fumble with her words, of course. Draco smiled into Harry’s hair. He saw one reporter clearing his throat with difficulty, and nudged Harry’s side a little, pointing to him. Best to squash Skeeter and the other impertinent ones for right now.

Of course, that question turned out to be the most impertinent one of all. “Is it true that when humans transform into Veela, their cocks grow in size?”

Draco could feel the roar building up in his throat, and his hands beginning to spark with fire. But Harry seized his fingers and held them still, saying only, “I’d think you’d know better than I would, seeing as I’ve never even _heard_ that rumor.”

The reporter promptly flushed. “ _I’ve_ never mated with a Veela, Auror Potter!”

“Then you’ll just have to live in ignorance.”

“I can’t help but notice that you _are_ skirting around the subject of your sex life,” said Skeeter loudly, her hand bobbing up and down in the air as though she’d made a pretense of raising it before this. “Tell me, Mr. Potter. Do you think that you’re having more satisfying sex now than you did with other partners?”

Draco clenched his teeth. He wanted Harry to answer that in the affirmative. And he wanted to take Harry away right now so that he could lay him down in the bed and change his perception of the sex they were having if the answer was negative.

“Again, Miss Skeeter, I think you know more about my sex life than I do, given all the articles you’ve written about it.”

“But are you really going to be satisfied dating a man for the rest of your life? You dated a woman before. Don’t you want children?”

“Is it true that Veela Malfoy would strangle any other people who flirted with you?”

“What did you think the first time that you had sex with Veela Malfoy, Auror Potter?”

Harry’s face had shut down by the time Draco managed to calm his own rage at the impertinence and look back at him. Then he shook his head slightly and said, “I didn’t agree to talk about frankly _vulgar_ subjects. And I know that nothing I said would get reported as true, anyway. You’d find a way to twist my words.” He stepped back and raised his hand. “This conversation is over.” He turned to walk towards the fireplaces again, and Draco immediately followed him, wings spread so that he could shield Harry against any curses frustrated reporters might decide to cast at his back.

“It almost sounds as if you’re _ashamed_ of your Veela mate,” said Skeeter then. “As if you want to keep some secret away from us. Tell us, Mr. Potter. Is he horribly scarred? Does he hurt you in bed?”

Harry turned smoothly. One hand clenched around Draco’s wrist, keeping him on the floor instead of flying over to savage Skeeter like he wanted. The other pointed a finger at Skeeter, and he said, “That’s it, madam. I will be bringing a lawsuit against the _Daily Prophet_ for the things that you’ve said about me and my mate. Your lack of respect has become inexcusable.”

Skeeter’s mouth fell open, and she stared. Then she found a smile from somewhere, although Draco thought it looked shaky. “Surely you won’t do that, Mr. Potter. I mean. What I’ve said about you before has been as—as speculative, and you’ve always responded with—”

Harry leaned forwards. His eyes were so dark green they looked poisonous. “But before, I didn’t have someone I was in love with who had such _insinuations_ being made about him. Listen to me, Skeeter. Shut up or get ready.” And he spun around and grabbed Draco’s wrist again and dragged Draco after him towards the fireplaces.

Draco went with him, only looking back once to take in the stunned expressions on Skeeter’s and the other reporters’ faces. Then he faced forwards with a smug little smile and put his hand on Harry’s back.

His mother might not approve of them leaving the conversation so abruptly, but Draco knew she would hardly be able to object once she realized why.

*

Harry Flooed back to the house in France without even thinking about it, and then turned around and winced as he watched Draco come through. “Sorry—did you want to be here? If you want to stay in Britain, I’ll—”

Draco kissed him so hard that Harry swooned against the wall. Then Draco pulled him up the stairs and into a bedroom that Harry hadn’t seen before. At least the walls were less overwhelming in their gaudiness than some of the others, and the windows looked out on a rather nice view of the gardens.

Draco’s wings had flared out. He kept his gaze on Harry as he undressed, and then reached over and gently swatted Harry’s hands away when he tried to take his own clothes off.

“Draco—”

“Let me take care of you, love. Let me show you I think as highly of you as you do of me.”

Harry lost his breath. Draco’s eyes were shining with such love and pride that they honestly almost _hurt_ to look at. Harry licked his lips and nodded, and only raised his arms or his arse or his feet as he needed to to let Draco move cloth or take clothes off. And he tossed his head back and lost all sense of himself and the world around him when Draco’s mouth closed around his erection.

There was magic in it, Harry thought hazily. Nothing had ever felt this good—this warm, this gently pulling, this soothing, this _wonderful_.

But it didn’t matter when he came some endless time later, and opened his eyes to see Draco settling on the bed beside him. Harry tried to lift a hand to touch his cheek, but his body had gone liquid with pleasure. Draco kissed his chin and curled up next to him, cradling Harry against his chest.

“Don’t you want me to.” That was as much of a sentence as Harry could manage right now.

“Taken care of when I saw the expression on your face.”

Harry closed his eyes and smiled slightly. This was so _nice_. More than that, but his brain was starting and stalling from word to word, and that was the one that kept popping up. “I meant what I said.”

“About suing Skeeter?”

“Yeah.”

“I know.” Draco’s hand slid up and down Harry’s body, from chest to groin, in long, soothing strokes. “Right now, why don’t you go to sleep and let me take care of everything? There’ll be food when you wake up, and you won’t have to talk to anyone or do anything that you don’t want to.”

“’Kay.” Harry let his head roll to the side, his eyes shut. There was warmth before him and behind him and inside him and above him where Draco’s wings drooped, and he absolutely believed those words. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to.

Because Draco was here.

Harry gave himself over to sleep, led down into it, or maybe followed into it, or maybe both, by Draco’s soft croon.


	23. Controlled Jealousy

“The letter is from Ron and Hermione. Um. They want to talk to me at the Burrow. And they want me to come alone.”

Draco shut his eyes and let out his breath in a little huff. Harry, sitting with the parchment folded tightly in his fist, watched him. Finally Draco opened his eyes again and nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re really okay with this?”

“Of course _not._ But they’re your friends, and I know you love them. I have to trust that neither of them is going to run off with you when I know how much you love me, too.” Draco reached across the table and cradled Harry’s hand, the one that didn’t hold Hermione’s letter, in his. “I’ll stay here, I promise. Just—don’t linger, okay? Come back as soon as you can, even if that isn’t for hours.”

Harry stood up and walked around the table to kiss him on the cheek. “I think these days alone with me have been good for you,” he breathed into Draco’s ear, making him shudder. “I can’t imagine you letting me go and spend time alone with Ron and Hermione before this. You didn’t even want me alone with them in Kingsley’s office.”

Draco nodded and let his fingers trail gently around the curve of Harry’s cheekbones. It was Harry’s turn to shudder. He’d had no idea how sensitive his face was until he started spending time with Draco.

“I have to control my jealousy. I know that. But it’s going to still be bad if someone makes you a romantic proposition while you’re there. Stay—” Draco clenched his teeth for a second. “Stay away from Weasley’s little sister. If you can.”

Harry nodded. “Honestly, I doubt Ginny will be there. Hermione said in her letter that she and Ron are going to be alone in the Burrow, too. Whatever this is, it’s something they don’t want Ron’s family to overhear, either.”

Draco stood up and forced Harry a step back, kissing him harshly, urgently. Harry leaned on the table and gave in, gripping Draco’s shoulders hard enough to feel the bone drive into his hands. Merlin, this was _different_ with Draco than it was with other people he’d flirted with. He didn’t mind possessive kisses when he trusted the person giving them to him.

Draco stepped back. “I hope it’s not bad news.”

“Me, too. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Draco didn’t respond. Harry looked at him over his shoulder as he walked towards the fireplace, and Draco smiled a little and said, “I know you will. But I’m going to stay over here in case my instincts take over at the last minute and start insisting that I go with you.”

“ _Such_ a flatterer,” Harry murmured, and smiled, and threw the Floo powder, and was gone.

*

Draco sighed and bowed his head. Maybe the hours alone would give him the time, too, to decide what he should do about the letter from Lucius that had come yesterday, and that he hadn’t shown Harry yet because of how it would hurt him.

 _That’s going to hurt us both._ It wasn’t as though Draco knew how to distance himself from Harry’s pain.

Draco opened his eyes and took the letter out of his pocket. He would read it over again and try to find a loophole in his father’s implacable words. Of course Father would have tried not to leave one, but Draco was his son. He had had an education in finding loopholes as well as crafting precise words that ought not to have them.

_Draco,_

_While your mother approves of the way that Potter handled the reporters’ inquiries into your intimate life, I was appalled. A man like Potter should have enough presence to quell such questions before they arise, and should not indulge his temper by threatening lawsuits. Somehow_ we _have coped with Skeeter’s vulgarity for a decade without threatening her._

_I wonder what you think, having chosen a mate without tactic, discretion, or control of his temper._

Then came his father’s flourishing signature. A short letter, to overturn half of what Draco had admired about the way Harry handled the reporters yesterday. But an important one.

Draco spread his wings and swooped through the large doorway from the dining room, up the staircase and through other doorways that would be wide enough to accommodate him. He was going to meditate and settle things in his mind so that, by the time Harry came home, he knew exactly what course of action he should suggest.

*

“What’s the matter? Did someone get hurt? Is it Charlie?”

That was the only thing Harry could think of when he came through the Floo into the Burrow and saw how white and tense Ron and Hermione’s faces were. There was always the possibility of someone being injured, and since Charlie worked with dragons, he was the most likely candidate.

But Ron and Hermione only gave each other long glances, and then Hermione turned back to him and shook her head. “No. It’s what we found out about Veela bonds and what happens when the temporary ones turn into permanent ones.”

Harry relaxed with a little sigh and let them usher him into the kitchen. There was tea waiting, steaming and prepared just the way he liked it, and a pile of biscuits that he knew Mrs. Weasley must have made. Harry settled into the chair nearest the plate and nibbled while he watched his friends take seats across from him.

“Please don’t interrupt at first.” Hermione’s eyes were haunted. “I know you want it to work with Draco. But I need to say this. All right? Can you just listen to me?”

Harry thought about it, then nodded. It was probably going to be incredibly hard, but he knew his friends. They wouldn’t have brought this up at all if they didn’t think it was important. He would try to listen to them and be unbiased.

“Thank you.” Hermione breathed the words, and then spread papers out on the table in front of her and lowered her face until her nose almost touched them. Ron sat there, eyes flicking worriedly back and forth between Harry and Hermione. “In the majority of all known temporary bonds that turned into true ones, the human partner eventually fell out of love.”

Harry clenched his teeth on the inside of his cheek. He had _promised_ that he would listen.

“It seems that the human partners felt caught up in the grandeur and drama of the moment, but then, when they ventured back into the outside world and started speaking with the people they’d known before the Veela requested to bond with them, they realized they wanted other things. Things other than the Veela’s constant protectiveness and hovering over them, I mean.” Hermione brushed hair out of her mouth and kept reading. “They wanted to spend time with their friends, _alone_ with their friends. They wanted to date other people. They wanted to go to their jobs without a Veela shadowing them.”

Harry curled his hand into his knee.

“And the Veela also tended to fall out of love. True bonds take time to form. It’s not like Veela just pin someone random to the ground and f-fuck them.” Hermione’s cheeks turned so red that Harry knew exactly what it had cost her to say those words. “They have to find a mate who’s compatible with them. Sure, they can form temporary bonds when it’s their life or nothing at all, but they want—more than just spur-of-the-moment compatibility. They want someone they can court, who will grow with them over the years. And that person is a human only fifty percent of the time.”

Harry took a deep breath. He had to admit, that part scared him more. He trusted Draco when Draco said he loved Harry, but if he opened his eyes one day and wanted to go through the courting process again…

“Both Veela and human in temporary bonds always felt rushed. That they’d jumped past the steps that would let mates get to _know_ each other, straight to the sex. The romance wasn’t part of it. And both the Veela and the human wanted romance in the end.”

Hermione looked up. Her eyes were brilliant with what Harry suspected were tears getting ready to fall. Her mouth was strained. Ron reached over and held her hand.

“That’s the summary?” Harry asked in an even tone, when she hadn’t spoken for a little while.

“Yes. I have all the sources if you want to look them over—”

“No, I trust that you’re summarizing what they said accurately. It’s just—Hermione, what do you call this?”

“Um.” Hermione darted her eyes around to follow the motion of his hand. “The Burrow?”

“No. I mean that I’m _alone_ with you here. Draco didn’t fly into a rage when I got your letter and suggest we were going to have a threesome. He was unhappy about it, but he did let me go.”

Ron had turned so red that Harry thought he might never look at Harry again. Harry ignored that. He knew it was the threesome comment, and he honestly had more important things to worry about.

“Well, that’s true, but you’ve also been isolated.” Hermione kept her voice gentle, the way she might talk to someone on the Janus Thickey Ward, Harry thought. “This is the first time you’ve been out of his reach for a long time since you came back. Do you think he can keep from bursting through the door or the Floo?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Why?”

“Because he _promised_.”

“Lots of Veela make promises to their mates,” Hermione said, and gave a mournful shake of her head. “That doesn’t mean they always keep them.”

Harry leaned back with his hands folded behind his head and faced Ron. “The Cannons,” he said. “How are they doing?”

“Fine!” Ron said, in automatic defense as always, and then blinked. “Not that I don’t appreciate the subject change, mate, but you’re usually a little less blatant than this.”

“We’re going to talk about something other than Draco, or me, or temporary bonds turning into true ones, or Veela mates,” Harry said firmly. “We’re going to talk for at least—Hermione, how much time would it take to convince you that he’s not coming after me? And _don’t_ say days.”

“I wasn’t going to say days.” Hermione crossed her arms. “An hour. That’s more than any Veela in a temporary bond turned into a true one ever managed.”

Harry nodded and turned to Ron. “Okay. Honestly, you’re going to have to carry most of the conversation. I wasn’t paying any attention to the Cannons before I went to that other dimension with Draco.”

“That’s because you’re not _sensible_ ,” Ron said, firing up. “All right. Listen. Imagine that there’s this line dividing all Quidditch teams in the world up, right? It’s based on _potential._ Not how many games they actually won. Those can depend on luck and things like the Seeker seeing the Snitch right away. How many they _could_ win. That’s what matters. Okay—”

Harry grinned and fell into listening. He had to admit he’d missed this: Ron’s waving hands and bright face and the way that he came up with all sorts of “facts” Harry never would have thought about.

He didn’t miss Hermione’s scowl in the corner, in either sense of the word. But he ignored her. Draco wasn’t going to come after him. He’d promised. And Malfoys and Veela both kept their promises.

*

Draco had flown twice around the whole of his house. He was covered with sweat now, and not all of it was from the effort required to beat his wings. He dropped down into the middle of the gardens and swore, bending over. His back ached and twitched. He wanted Harry to be there to rub a soothing hand over it.

Harry wasn’t there.

And maybe he was letting someone else touch _him,_ right now. Maybe he was going to come back and tell Draco that the youngest Weasley daughter, or someone else, was at the Burrow, and they were so sweet and kind and all he wanted, and he didn’t think he could take the pressure of being mated to a Veela anymore—

Draco jerked his head back and bared his teeth in a silent snarl. No, he couldn’t say that, he couldn’t think that, he couldn’t _do_ that. Or he would go tearing off to England and drag Harry back home with his teeth locked in the scruff of Harry’s neck.

That was too appealing an image to let go right away. Draco thought about what he would do the next time they were in bed together, and then slammed again into the realization that there might not _be_ a next time.

_No. He said there would be._

_And Harry keeps his promises._

Draco dragged himself back under control with a growl and a shake of his head, and called for one of the house-elves to bring him tea.

*

“Okay, it was an hour without him. But it was an hour of chatting about the _Cannons_.”

Harry blinked at Hermione as he reached for the Floo powder. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you’d spent an hour talking about when you used to date Ginny or Michael, or the other options that you have out there besides Malfoy—”

Harry reached out and put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She shut up and blinked at him. Harry took a breath and said quietly, “I’m never going to talk about that again, Hermione. Because I don’t want it. I know you’re trying to help by doing things like compiling those statistics, but _this_ doesn’t help.”

Being Hermione, she probably would have argued harder, but she must have seen something in his eyes that she realized she was better off not arguing against. She nodded and said, “Okay, Harry.”

“Take care with Malfoy, mate.” Ron shook his hand. Then he leaned over while Hermione shuffled through the papers for something she wanted to give Harry and whispered, “I don’t like Malfoy that much, but I think you’re doing fine with him. I only agreed to be here because Hermione was so insistent.”

Harry smiled back, and then shook his head at the paper Hermione tried to give him. “No, Hermione.”

“But—”

“ _No_. Seeing those statistics would hurt Draco. And we’ve already established that he can control his jealousy and that he isn’t going to come storming through the Floo after me. I’m going to leave it here.”

“But it would still be better if he didn’t have jealousy. I mean, jealousy is wrong. Even if he can control it.”

“Jealousy is part of who he is as a Veela. If it was terrible and he wouldn’t let me go anywhere by myself, I would leave him. You _know_ I would, Hermione,” he added firmly, when her mouth trembled open again. “But I’ve chosen to accept this. I love him. I’m going to stay with him.”

Hermione chewed her lip for a second. Then she gave a long, deep sigh, and Harry smiled, because he knew that meant she was giving him up convincing him that temporary bonds turned into true ones weren’t a good thing. “All right. But if you ever change your mind—”

“I know you would be there for me.” Harry hugged her, shook Ron’s hand again, and then dropped the Floo powder into the flames. He didn’t really want to call the name of their home in front of them, but he reasoned that they wouldn’t do anything with it unless it was an emergency. “Draco’s Home!”

Just like he always did, he stumbled out of the fire, and was brushing soot off his clothes when Draco seized him.

Harry laughed and leaned back against the mantel, gently touching Draco’s cheeks and eyebrows. He hadn’t even reacted violently, the way he would if most people grabbed him, he thought. Draco was already too familiar to him for that. Scent or sound or something else, he _knew_ him. He could never be upset or surprised when Draco was the one holding him.

“You’re back, you’re back,” Draco muttered, and he kissed the side of his neck and touched the side of his shirt.

“Yes. And next time it’ll be easier.”

Draco’s wings trembled for a second, and then he sighed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We have to have a next time, don’t we?”

And that moment, right then, when they were smiling at each other, was the moment when the owl swooped through the window and dropped the Howler in the middle of the drawing room table, where it exploded, shouting in Lucius’s voice.

“Have you _seen_ what they printed in the papers, Draco? That you’re as weak as I always thought you were, wrapped around that _child_ like they said you were, that you’re a Veela and that means more to you than being a Malfoy, that you want— _things—_ that are unspeakable. I give up. From this moment forwards, I no longer consider you my son.”

The shouting stopped, and Draco stared in silence at the small pile of red pieces of parchment in the middle of the table. Harry wrapped his arms around him and held on.


	24. The Retaliation

“It will be all right, Draco. It will be all right.”

Harry had been repeating those words and variations on them for the last half-hour. He hated that he couldn’t think of anything else to do right now, but Draco just seemed so _broken_. And when Harry had tried to move away to get blankets to wrap around him, Draco had immediately tightened his arms and his wings and crooned, a sound so unhappy it made Harry’s bones shiver. In the end, Harry had called the house-elves and had them bring blankets and tea instead.

They were still downstairs, near the hearth. At least Draco had consented to sit down at the table and let Harry stand near him and stroke his back. He still panicked and snapped his wings out if Harry moved so much as a foot away.

Harry half-closed his eyes. Part of him was sure that Narcissa would handle this and make Lucius sorry he’d been born. But that didn’t do anything for Draco right _now_.

_I want to help him. I want to show him that, even if his father couldn’t be convinced to change his mind, he still has me._

That was probably part of it, Harry thought with a start. Draco’s father had abandoned him. At the moment, Draco was exquisitely sensitive to the thought that anyone else might do the same.

Harry knelt down in front of him and took his hands. Draco gave him a glazed look. At least it was better than the absolute blankness his eyes had held before.

“I’m never going to leave you.”

Draco’s wings quivered again, and words welled out of his mouth. “You won’t have a choice. You’ll have to go back to your Auror job, and your friends—”

“You can come if you want.”

“You didn’t want me to. I have to let you go. I have to prove I don’t want to control you.”

“But I _know_ that you’re not going to try and control me. And I don’t think that—this will last forever. You can come with me, Draco. You can hold me when we sleep together. You can be with me every hour of the day, if that’s what it takes. You _have me._ All right? Whatever you need, whatever it takes to prove that. I’m yours.”

Draco’s eyes stared straight at him, looking like two pools of darkness in ice for a moment. Harry tightened his grip on his hands. He wasn’t sure what else he could say. He supposed he had to wait for Draco to respond, and then he’d decide. But he was here, no matter what. He was close, no matter what.

“Harry,” Draco said, and his voice didn’t sound broken anymore. Harry reached up and ran the back of his hand along Draco’s cheek.

Draco’s hand snapped up and caught his. Turning, Draco pressed his nose against Harry’s palm and inhaled. Harry shuddered, a strong current of pleasure working through him. Draco made a soft noise, and Harry was hard so suddenly it made him dizzy.

“Yes,” Draco said, as if talking to himself. “This is the way it has to be.” He scooped Harry up and spread his wings. It seemed as if they blurred through corridors and up stairs and down into a doorway instead of flying. Then they were next to a bed Harry hadn’t seen before, in a bedroom where everything was pale, and Draco laid him down on the bed and covered Harry with his body.

Harry gripped at Draco’s shoulders, and gasped as his clothes abruptly dissolved into colored puddles. He stared at them on the sheets for a second before Draco’s hand grasped his chin and wrenched his head up.

This time, meeting Draco’s eyes was more like looking into twin pools of fire. “You meant what you said about letting me have you?”

“You already do. I’m yours, Draco. Do what you need to do.”

Draco bent down and flicked his tongue across Harry’s neck, at the same time as a bolt of brutal pleasure shot through him. Harry gasped and tried to say something, but Draco’s tongue and teeth were too busy for that. His words trailed off into a moan, and he lifted his legs and spread his arms, trying to embrace Draco, trying to get closer.

Draco pulled back a little and looked him straight in the eye as he made a strange noise, like a flat croon. Harry flinched a little as he got so hard so fast that it was painful. Draco licked his lips and stood there, as if waiting for Harry to tell him to stop.

“No,” Harry said, or panted, or stared, or something. He just knew he had to get this across to Draco somehow, even if he didn’t have control of his voice right at the moment. “I trust you. I said I did. I’m yours. _Take_ me.”

Draco swooped down on him.

His fingers and his tongue were a blur, and so was the pleasure and pain that surged through Harry’s body and became so mixed that it was hard to tell exactly what was happening to him. He knew his eyes were rolling back, that his hands sometimes closed on air and sometimes on skin, and that he felt and heard Draco more than he saw him. He knew all that, but his world was still a haze.

Draco was everywhere at once, pressing on spots that Harry hadn’t known existed, and his body was shuddering with delicious peals of thunder that seemed to break just under his breastbone, and now and then he touched a wing and Draco shuddered with him. The haze had him most of the time, though.

That was all right. That was just _fine_. Because Harry knew that Draco would never let him fall into the fog and become lost within it.

Then suddenly it all cleared away, and Harry knew with intimate brightness that Draco had prepared him and was sliding into him. He huffed and arched his back, trying to relax as much as he could. The alertness singing through him made it difficult.

Draco bit the side of his neck gently, and tranquility passed through Harry in only the way that adrenaline ever had. He reached up, hooked his hand behind Draco’s neck, and beamed at him madly, leaning further up to softly lick his lips.

“You’re amazing.”

It seemed those were words Draco had been waiting to hear, because he moved Harry further up the bed and settled into fucking him. There was no pain at all, which was maybe magic and maybe the preparation that Harry didn’t remember. But it didn’t _matter._ Because he was with someone who wouldn’t leave him by himself.

Harry gently smoothed his hands over Draco’s cheekbones and rubbed a finger against his teeth. Then Draco bent down and kissed him, and draped them with his wings. Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

The darkness behind his eyelids was still full of Draco, silver swirls of delight and power and Veela-ness. Harry held on, and knew Draco was all around him, sheltering him and supporting him and making love to him.

He came with no sound, he was so caught up in staring at those silver swirls. He felt a kiss on his cheek, as desperate as everything else that he’d felt so far, and Draco followed him. And then Harry did cry out, because Draco’s orgasm was more pleasurable to him than his own had been. His lower body was almost cramping with how good he felt.

Draco laid him back down, licking his eyelids and then gently kissing his nose. By the time Harry opened his eyes, he had returned enough to himself to look a little embarrassed.

“You’re kissable,” he muttered, the first clear words he’d spoken since they flew up here. He rested against Harry, seemingly unable to let go even now. Harry didn’t mind that. He touched Draco’s wings and his collarbone and his bare back—he didn’t even remember Draco taking his own clothes off—because he didn’t want to let go of him, either.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Everything was perfect.”

Draco seemed almost to melt with relief above him. “The last thing I remembered wasn’t clear.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Harry turned his head until Draco ought to be able to feel Harry’s eyelashes sliding against his skin, and then sighed. “Go to sleep. That’s something you can do right now, right?”

Draco grunted out what could have been a complaint or an insult. But since he fell asleep halfway through it, it wasn’t as though it impressed Harry much.

Harry smiled, kept his own eyes closed, and followed him into slumber.

*

“Stop looking at me like that. I can hear you accusing yourself right now.”

Draco started. He hadn’t actually meant to wake Harry up with the force of his stare, but it seemed that was what had happened. Harry stirred, yawned, and then sat up, looking Draco in the face in that fearless way he had.

“I asked for you to take me. You did. The only things I feel are a few aches and pains that were probably caused more by the Floo than you. Because I know Veela magic made me as comfortable and gave me as much pleasure as possible. So stop accusing yourself of not taking care of your mate.”

Harry was walking his fingers up Draco’s arm. Draco caught his hand and brought Harry’s wrist to his mouth, gently blowing on it. “You seem to have learned Legilimency when I wasn’t looking.”

Harry’s faint smile dissolved into laughter, and he leaned up and kissed Draco firmly. Draco kissed back and didn’t let himself lean down and be drawn into something more than the kiss. At this point, _he_ was going to ache even if Harry didn’t, and he wasn’t sure that he could summon enough magic right now to make it comfortable for his mate.

“Now. Do you want to talk about what we should do in the face of your father’s disowning you?”

“Mother is probably already at the Manor talking to him. That she hasn’t tried to reach me by owl or Floo yet means that it’s going to take a long time. And…and this place is mine, he can’t take it away, and I have a vault that he can’t touch, either. In case the disownment is permanent—”

“You’re worried about being able to take care of me?”

Draco reared back and hissed at him. “Yes, I _am_! I don’t care how rich you are, a Veela is supposed to be able to cherish and protect his mate against all the ills of the world! I should be able to afford you the best food and the best Healers and clothes so luxurious they make silk seem cheap—”

“And is there a law that a mate can’t take care of his Veela?”

“Not a law! I just—I wanted to take care—”

“I know. But I’m going to take care of _you_ , too, Draco. I don’t want you to mistake that. I’ll do whatever I have to so you can face your father and have everything you need.”

Harry’s chin was stubbornly uplifted, and the look in his eyes told Draco that he wasn’t about to get around him. He sighed and pulled Harry close to him, stroking his hair. He wondered what he’d done to get lucky enough to have a mate like this, but he didn’t feel like discussing it right now.

“Do you want to eat something?”

Draco nodded and dragged himself off the bed. He didn’t feel _that_ hungry, but if he didn’t eat, Harry wouldn’t eat, and that was unacceptable.

Harry looked down at the clothes that were now only multicolored spots on the sheets—Draco didn’t remember melting them, but he knew what a Veela’s magic looked like—and then Summoned Auror robes and draped them around his shoulders while Draco got dressed in a set of spare robes himself. He led the way down to the dining room, not touching Draco, but looking at him firmly enough over his shoulder that Draco had no choice about following.

Not that he wanted to be far from his mate at the moment, anyway. Harry had somehow known exactly what to do to calm him down. That was amazing. And that meant everything else, including what his father had done, was survivable.

They found a meal waiting under Warming and Preservation Charms for them, courtesy of the house-elves. Harry rolled his eyes a little but put up with Draco’s determination to spoon soup into his mouth, tear up chunks of bread for him, and spread soft cheese over scones for him. Then Draco attended to his own needs, while Harry leaned against him in companionable silence.

They’d mostly finished when an owl hurtled through the open window above the far door. Draco found himself tensing until he realized the envelope it carried wasn’t red. He sighed and reached out a hand. Harry tensed in turn, as if he really wanted to take any curses the letter carried on himself, but suffered Draco to open and read it.

_My dear son,_

_I have managed to reverse part of your father’s stubbornness, but not all. He has said only that he_ may _accept you back into the family if you prove the worth of your mate to him. I think he needs to speak with you face-to-face to determine that worth. Please come to the Manor as soon as possible, and bring Harry with you. I hate to force you to this, but I literally cannot press any more without using the Imperius Curse on him._

_Your loving mother._

Harry leaned over to read it, and nodded. “All right. Do you feel up to Flooing there, Draco? I know that you’ll probably want to change your clothes, but—”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , that we’re going to confront this imbecile and settle things as quickly as possible.”

“But _you’re_ the one who just got fucked to within an inch of his life.”

“I know what fucking feels like, and that wasn’t it. That was everything I wanted and didn’t know I wanted.” Harry leaned up to kiss him, so sweetly that Draco felt as though someone had lit a candle under his skin. “Come on. As long as _you’re_ ready, then we can face him.”

Draco swallowed and spent a moment straightening his hair. Then he gave up on his dangling, rumpled clothes and simply cast a few Freshening Charms. Harry pulled back and smiled at him.

“I look presentable?”

“I’m not the best judge. I think you look wonderful no matter what you’re wearing.”

Draco managed to laugh, and then followed Harry to the Floo. He thought he might leave the confrontation mostly up to Harry. Draco might _look_ wonderful, but right now, Harry _was_ wonderful.

*

It was extremely satisfying to see the constipated expression on Lucius Malfoy’s face when Harry walked out of the fireplace in the Manor first.

“What are _you_ doing here? I consented to speak to my son—”

“I’m your son’s mate, and I’m not leaving,” Harry said in a level voice as he stepped to the side so that Draco could exit from the flames. Draco’s anxious eyes darted back and forth between him and his father, but Harry ignored the way that he could feel his Veela flinching. He had something to say. “You didn’t even do us the courtesy of telling us what the _Daily Prophet_ said that you found so objectionable. Do you happen to have a copy?” He turned his head so that he was more addressing Narcissa, who sat in a chair off to the side.

Narcissa stood up and walked over to them with the newspaper extended. Harry scanned the article, then snorted. He didn’t need to read the whole thing to know what it was about. Their sex life, or rather, Skeeter’s speculations about their sex life. “Size queen” was the kindest thing mentioned, along with a faux-innocent sentence about Harry limping that day in the Ministry of Magic, and what it probably meant.

“She’s crossed the line,” Harry said, and smiled a little. He wasn’t going to bother with a lawsuit right now. He had a better weapon poised over Skeeter’s head. “I’ll deal with her.”

“This does not change the fact that my son has been made _a laughingstock._ ”

Harry slowly switched his gaze to Lucius Malfoy. He heard Draco gasp a bit behind him. “Do leave him alive, please,” he muttered.

Harry reached back and grasped his mate’s hand without a sign that he’d heard him. “Exactly what do you think I’m going to do, Mr. Malfoy? Abandon him? Never. Bad things can happen to him just like they can to me. I’m not going to lie down and not take revenge.”

“I—”

“You’re one of those bad things, Mr. Malfoy, as far as I’m concerned,” Harry went on, never looking away from Lucius. “I’m going to make you see the wisdom of taking your son back. And I’m not even going to do it by _hurting_ you. Although I could. I hurt worse wizards than you every day I’m an Auror. I could perform countercurses that would make your bones tremble. I could haul you in for use of the Dark magic I can feel _all around_ this house. But I’m not going to do that. It wouldn’t cow you. It wouldn’t teach you a lesson.

“I’m going to tell you how wonderful your son is, instead. He did what he had to do to keep us both alive in the other dimension, and he fought against his instincts as long as he could. He’s brave. When we surrendered to the inevitable and our bond became a true one, he treated me well, despite our past history. He’s kind. He’s protected me since we came back to our world, but also accepted that he can’t control everything, and one of those things is my relationship with my friends. He’s practical. He fears losing contact with you and his mother, and he values his history. He’s loving. He’s done everything he can for me without driving me away, and worked with his instincts, and made compromises, and taught me things about myself I didn’t know. He’s intelligent.”

Harry moved a step forwards, eyes fixed on Lucius. He was faintly aware that Narcissa had stood up—he’d seen the movement from the corner of his eye—but he ignored her for the moment.

“If you’re stupid enough to disown a son like that,” he said softly, “then it’ll be my pleasure and privilege to take care of him for the rest of our lives, with the combined Black and Potter fortunes, and gratify his every wish, in the sure and certain knowledge that his father is a moron who can’t see what a good thing is when he has it.”

He turned around and stalked back to the fireplace, nodding at Draco. Draco started and then followed him.

“I hope Draco sees you soon,” Harry added over his shoulder, without looking back at Lucius. He threw in the Floo powder. “Draco’s Home!”

They whirled through the flames and landed. For once, Harry was graceful about it; he thought it was probably concern for Draco that made him keep his feet. He _had_ to be there to catch Draco as he flew out and look into his face.

“Are you okay? Do you need—”

Draco was all over him in a second, crooning, shaking his head when Harry tried to say something, his fingers digging down into Harry’s shoulderblades and stroking as if Harry had wings himself. Harry tossed his head back and Draco’s kissing mouth followed, murmuring words Harry felt more than heard.

“Let me worship you. Please.”

And because it was what both of them wanted, Harry surrendered.


	25. His Move

“I wish you would tell me what you’re going to say about Skeeter.”

Harry grinned a little and leaned up to kiss Draco on the cheek. “Why? This way, you get to be surprised along with everyone else.”

“But I’ll probably be gaping.” Draco slid his arms around Harry’s waist and lowered his head so that his nose was right next to Harry’s neck. Harry held back a groan as his lips and tongue followed the path. “It will seem like it’s news to me. Do you _want_ me to do that? It could make people doubt the truth of what you’re saying.”

“How—so?”

From Draco’s deep intake of satisfied breath, he really liked that pause in the middle of Harry’s words. “Because why would you keep information like that from me, your Veela and your partner in life? What purpose does it serve?”

“That—” Harry nearly bent over as the sparks shot straight to his groin and he felt himself begin to swell. “Draco, please. If we start shagging on the kitchen table, we’re never going to get to the meeting on time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Draco murmured, hands sliding lower, around, across. “I think we should show them exactly how much we respect their time.”

“By—Oh Merlin—missing the meeting?”

“It’s an announcement, really. One where you tell them what you knew about Skeeter that was so important...” Draco left the words dangling, and let out another huff when Harry didn’t rise to the bait. “ _Harry._ ”

“Draco,” Harry imitated back, and slid free with a shake of his head and a smoothing-down of his robes. A quick, muttered charm made his erection subside. He had the feeling it was a spell he’d be getting a lot of use out of. “Let’s destroy their respect for Skeeter first, _then_ we can destroy our reputation in their eyes.”

Draco sighed and marched over to the Floo. He had informed Harry this morning that he would be going first, in case a threat was waiting on the other side. He’d blinked when Harry had agreed.

But, honestly, Harry was still relieved and a little smug at the thought that he now had someone to take care of him. He didn’t intend to fight that when the manifestations were harmless.

 _And when they afford me the ability to watch a fine arse go through the Floo in front of me,_ he thought happily as he waited for Draco to clear the fireplace, and then tossed the powder in with a flash of green.

*

Draco smiled a little as he watched Harry stalk up to the fountain in the middle of the Atrium, the exact same place that he’d stood when they held the press conference before this one. The reporters increased their mumbled certainty that Harry would turn out to have called this meeting for nothing, that he’d really have no interesting information to announce.

 _Don’t they see the way he fucking_ walks? _That’s a man who’s in command of himself and his environment and has important things to say._

Then again, the wizarding world had overlooked the important things about Harry since he was a child. All the more reason for Draco to wrap himself happily around his mate and stand there with wings draping him and Harry smiling at him in exasperation.

Draco lowered his head and chirped into Harry’s ear. It was his turn to smile as Harry shivered.

“Shall we get started?” Skeeter spoke up first, of course, light gleaming off her glasses and the bright blonde hair that Draco hoped had never fooled anyone. “I have important interviews to conduct later today, you know.”

“Of course. Since what I have to say concerns you most of all, I can see why you want to hurry up and hear it.”

Skeeter frowned and blinked. Draco stepped to Harry’s side instead of behind him so he could more easily curl an arm around his waist, and maybe display the smug smile that hopefully wouldn’t alert Skeeter of what was going on.

“What do you mean by that, Auror Potter?”

Harry smiled at the young man who had asked the question, one Draco didn’t know but thought had been there at the first press conference they gave. “I’m glad you asked! One thing you should be aware of is that not everyone is as heroic as they present themselves.” The smile dropped off Harry’s face, and he sighed, reaching out to touch the rim of the Fountain’s bowl. “I’ve committed errors in my time, you know, some of which got reported on in the _Daily Prophet._ ” His eyes flashed to Skeeter this time, but she still didn’t run, which to Draco was remarkable. _He_ would have with someone looking at him like that. “But other people have also made mistakes. I—kept their secrets for a while. I find myself unable to do so now.”

“Do tell, Mr. Potter,” Skeeter purred. She probably thought he was throwing a Weasley or Granger to the press.

_How did she ever become a household name, let alone a reporter other people respect?_

“For example,” Harry went on in a grave voice, looking around the other reporters as though what he had to say didn’t apply to Skeeter in particular, “did you know that Rita Skeeter is an illegal Animagus?”

Draco found himself gaping with the rest. A few people were wheezing. But everyone at once had turned to look at Skeeter, whose face was suddenly the color of curdled milk.

“That’s—not true, Mr. Potter,” she said a second later. Her hand rose as though to pat down stray strands of her hair. “It’s not true _at all._ If the best thing you can come up with against a fighter for the truth is to spread scurrilous rumors—”

“She is,” Harry went on, in almost a musing voice. “A beetle. That’s how she gets close enough to overhear private conversations where everyone involved would have sworn no one else was in the room with them. I found out in my fourth year at Hogwarts but let it go, because I thought it was possible that she would reform and never trouble me or anyone else again now that someone knew her secret. And I did think that her reports were a little more truthful for a while. But after that article last week...” He slowly shook his head.

Draco controlled his laughter. The last thing he wanted to do was cost Harry this. He forced his face into stern lines and nodded a little.

“Do you want me to do something about this, Harry?”

“Oh, no. I think we should let the consequences fall on her. I’ve shielded her for too long. I thought she would learn better. I thought she would admit it herself. I even though maybe she’d already been tried and punished for it, until I realized that I would have read about that story in the _Prophet_.” Harry smiled a little. He could do a truly devastated look when he wanted to. “I was young and stupid. I was party to keeping someone out of prison. But now I think we need to let all the consequences fall where they do.”

Skeeter was backing up. Then she turned and began to run towards the fireplaces. Harry sighed, pulled out his wand, and Stunned her. She lay where she fell, and Harry turned towards the other reporters with a blink and a shake of his head.

“You probably have questions,” he began.

The questions erupted then, and as he listened, Draco realized another reason that Harry had done this. _Now_ all they could talk about was Skeeter being an Animagus and Harry keeping it concealed. No one cared about Skeeter’s article on their sex lives anymore.

He had also done it at the cost of an impact on his own reputation as an Auror. He was too smart not to realize that, but Draco didn’t know what he did intend. He would ask as soon as they were alone.

In the meantime, he bowed his head and licked the back of Harry’s neck, and ignored the tremor that raced through his mate. His mate was impressive and in command and sexy, and he deserved to know he was wanted.

*

“Unpleasant interrogation?”

Harry snorted as he took off the Auror robes that he’d ended up wearing into a conversation with Kingsley when he took Skeeter in to be arrested. “You could say that,” he said, and sat down at the dining table.

There was already food laid out. Draco had obviously eaten some of it. Harry felt himself relax further as he saw that. Draco felt himself to be too responsible for Harry as it was. It was better if he cared for his own needs when Harry was unavailable.

“He was actually angry that you’d kept the word of her Animagus status from him?”

“Of course he was. If the Aurors had known earlier, then they might have been able to control her and prevent some of the articles that she wrote about them.”

Draco stared at him for a second. Then he said, “The _hypocrite_.”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t get in trouble for knowing and not saying, not the way you’re probably thinking. I’m hardly going to be arrested and taken to Azkaban tomorrow. But he was angry that I used the knowledge in my own way and not for the good of the Aurors.”

“Did you take that hit to your own reputation on purpose, then?”

Harry nodded and began to serve himself from the large bowl of soup in the middle of the table. He wasn’t entirely certain what was in it, but honestly, it smelled good enough that he didn’t care. And the floating leaves might be basil, anyway. “I don’t know if I want to be an Auror any longer.”

“I don’t want you to retire because of me.”

“And if I say it’s because of _me_ and some of the things the Aurors do? Are you going to forbid me or not?”

Draco turned slowly red. Harry nodded and began to eat his soup. Draco remained silent until he’d finished that bowl and got another and also eaten some of the bread slathered with soft dipping sauce.

“What kinds of things have the Aurors done? You seemed willing to return to them before.”

“And I’ll probably keep working for them for at least a little while longer,” Harry said, when he’d swallowed and cleared his mouth of the obstacle in the way. “But they’re simply too rule-bound. And they’re not flexible enough to accommodate things like a Veela mate and the fact that I _am_ going to be looked at differently because I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. I’ve tried to act like an ordinary Auror and like it doesn’t matter, like I’m the same. Kingsley scolded me for giving press conferences.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because most Aurors wouldn’t do that. Or at least they would only speak in public after they’d had a discussion with Kingsley to see what they should say.”

Draco rose and prowled around the table and behind Harry. Harry closed his eyes and leaned forwards, letting Draco reach his shoulders to massage them. He knew Draco needed to touch him right now.

Hell, after the conversation with Kingsley earlier and some of the realizations that he’d come to, _Harry_ needed it, too.

“He wants you to shut up?”

“Not—really. He doesn’t want to treat me differently, either, but he means that I should be able to have normal hours and the expectation of privacy and all that. But then I come back with a Veela mate and trampling around in public and announcing that I knew about Skeeter’s Animagus form, and it makes it difficult for him.”

“Too _fucking_ bad.”

“I do feel sorry for him. He just doesn’t know what to do. There are certain things he’s allowed to do, and none of them work for this situation.”

Draco bent down and licked the back of his neck the way he had during the press conference. Harry shivered, and reached up and cupped his own hand around the back of Draco’s neck, because right now, he was free to respond that way.

“Shall we wait until you’re done eating and then go upstairs, so I can show you how special you are?” Draco asked in a low voice.

“I’m done eating,” Harry said, and stood up, and spun around, and caught Draco in a kiss.

*

Draco woke with a start. He felt that he _shouldn’t_ have woken up. He was beside Harry, who still breathed softly, lying in the bed, and he knew that he would have slept longer unless his mate was in danger.

Was that it? Draco lay still and looked around the room moving only his eyes. He could see nothing and no one, and there was no broken twang of wards in his head. He dared to lift himself onto an elbow, and found nothing there, either.

The stillness was getting to him, given the sharp insistence in the back of his head that something was still wrong.

Draco stood and prowled towards the middle of the room, his wings flaring out and his hands reaching for something invisible. Just before he touched something that seemed to run like a humming clothesline across the center of the chamber, he remembered where he’d felt something like this before. After he fell from his broom once, as a child, this humming had appeared around him and—

The line seemed to snare his hands and sent him tumbling through the air. Draco came out of the fall rolling, his wings tucked closely to his body.

Sent him somewhere else. That was what it had done. It was a Malfoy spell to summon a child of the line who had ventured into danger.

Draco turned around, wings spreading again, feeling ready to fly back to France if necessary. Father was sitting in a chair in front of him, and only the expression on his face kept Draco from either shrieking or attacking. He looked—tired.

“You’ve chosen him,” Father said, gaze moving slowly across Draco’s face as if his eyes would tell Father something different from his cheekbones. “And you won’t forsake him.”

“No. What convinced you at last?” Draco let his wings fall, slowly. He still didn’t like the way he’d been summoned away from Harry’s side, but so far, there seemed to be no danger. And the wards around Draco’s Home would keep Harry safe.

“Hearing about what happened today. He endangered his own reputation and career, for you.”

“Yes, he did.” Draco didn’t intend to tell his father that Harry had apparently reconsidered his commitment to the role of the Auror.

“Is it true that Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus?”

“The Aurors took her in and cast the spell that could force her to change shape. Yes, it is, even though it hasn’t been reported publicly yet.”

“But that does not lessen the—scolding that Mr. Potter received from his Head Auror?”

“No, it didn’t.”

Father looked off to the side and frowned. Draco continued watching him. So far he was sensible. It didn’t mean he would stay that way.

Father finally turned back and cleared his throat, a long, painful process, from the sound. Then he said, “I was wrong.”

 _At least now I know why it sounded so painful for him._ “How so?”

“I thought that Potter simply enjoyed the prestige of having a Veela mate, and perhaps had some glee at the thought that he’d enthralled his former rival. But he really is committed to you. He’ll take risks. He’ll make sacrifices.”

“It’s good that you’ve realized it,” Draco said, and then enforced what he had to enforce. “So long as you grasp that I’ll do the same thing for him, and never flinch.”

Father said nothing for long enough that Draco thought he might have to leave and come back and repeat the lesson again. But he’d only just turned towards the nearest fireplace when Father blurted out, “I know you don’t flinch. I never thought you would manifest Veela traits or mate with someone. And can you understand why I didn’t want you to mate with Potter, of all people, if you were going to do that?”

Draco turned back and shook his head a little. “Not now. The instincts that would have said Harry is a bad match for me don’t exist anymore.”

Father looked at his hands, at the carpet, at his hands again, and finally up at Draco’s face. “Then I will welcome him into the Malfoy family,” he said. “And create a certain—kind of bonding.”

Draco smiled at his father. “Thank you. But I believe we can plan our own bonding. Are you going to attend?”

Father grimaced, but nodded. He knew, as well as Draco, why Draco was saying this. “Very well. I—” More grimacing, to the point that Draco thought he might leave before his father broke the silence. Then he said, “Congratulations on the strength of the man you chose.”

“Thank you,” Draco repeated, inclined his head, and then went to find more Floo powder. There was a warm weight of contentment in his gut, one that he couldn’t wait to share with Harry.

This had been a very good day, indeed.


	26. Repercussions

“The way that you exposed Skeeter like that…”

Hermione sounded as if she didn’t know whether she wanted to strangle him or hug him. Harry grinned at her and sipped from his butterbeer. He was meeting Ron and Hermione for dinner in his flat, and Draco was sitting next to him, watching his friends with a carefully-relaxed tension that would have fooled most humans. But Harry could feel how coiled his muscles still were under the pressure of Harry’s elbow. Harry nudged him again, and Draco released some more of the tension with a little grunt. “I know. We could have done it earlier. But I’m glad that we waited and I could use this as a weapon.”

“Malfoy could have done it, too.”

“Of course I could, Weasley. But to be honest, I’d stopped paying attention to Skeeter some time ago. I assumed that it was either an open secret or that she’d gone to Azkaban sometime in the last few years and served her sentence for being an unregistered Animagus. I never thought that she’d kept the secret and so had the _other_ people who knew.”

“Skeeter, serve prison time willingly?” Harry grinned at Draco this time. “Of course not! Now she’ll have no choice but to do it, though.”

“You realize when she comes out she’s going to be worse than ever?”

“It’s unlikely that she’ll still have a job at the _Daily Prophet_ when that happens, Granger. Even they try to distance themselves from convicted criminals.”

“She could write a book the way she wrote one about Dumbledore. She’s popular! And she’ll want vengeance—”

“Then we’ll deal with it then.” Draco’s voice shut that line of conversation down. Harry could understand why. Draco was trying to be _less_ anxious about some things that were going to make him unavoidably angry no matter what he did. “But that’s a year away, or even more, since they haven’t tried her yet. I heard Shacklebolt is trying to attach some additional charges.”

“How can he?”

“Something about Ministry conversations and private trials that she might have spied on.”

Ron laughed and leaned across the table to tap his mug of butterbeer against Draco’s. Draco actually unfroze and accepted the clink before Harry had to nudge him again. “You’re all right, Malfoy. Not who I would have picked for Harry, but he didn’t work out with the one I would have picked a long time ago, so…no harm done.”

Ron caught Harry’s eye, and Harry just nodded back. Ron had been unhappy that Harry and Ginny hadn’t worked out, but he’d also accepted that it wasn’t his business to try and force them back together. And there would be no going back even if Harry had wanted to, now. Draco was his mate.

He _didn’t_ want to. Draco was everything he wanted.

The rest of dinner proceeded normally—strangely normal, really, with this being the first time Draco and his friends had talked for hours without insults. Hermione asked a few insensitive questions about Veela, and Draco snapped a few times at things not worth snapping at, but no one got their feelings hurt.

 _Or their skins,_ Harry thought as he stepped back through the Floo to Draco’s home and Draco leaned claws against him for a second.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Harry looked up. Draco’s gaze was averted, and his wings fluttered, tensed, fluttered, tensed. That was a bad sign. Still, Harry trusted that it wasn’t some horrible secret Draco had kept. That wasn’t like him. “All right. What?”

Draco turned around. “Mother is pleased with the way I handled Father, but she also wants us to set a bonding date. I told her that we wanted to do it on our own. She said that was fine, but she wanted to know _when_ it would be.”

Harry blinked. “Oh.”

“You’re not reacting as badly as I expected.”

“I thought she would probably want us bonded. Mothers want that kind of thing. Or—well, people told me they did. I know Mrs. Weasley was happy to know Ron and Hermione finally set a wedding date.”

Draco lifted a gentle hand to cup his cheek. “If you let her, Mother will be happy to step into the space of a parent for you. She can’t replace your mother, but she doesn’t want to. She just wants to make sure that we’re both happy.”

Harry closed his eyes a little. “I’d like that a lot,” he whispered. Molly would always be his mum in some ways, but it was true that they’d been more distant with each other since he broke up with Ginny. And he would only have to share Narcissa with one other person, not seven.

Selfish, maybe, but he wanted that.

Draco kissed him with what Harry could tell was a triumphant smile from the feel of it against his lips, although he didn’t open his eyes to see it. His hand tangled for a second in Draco’s hair, and he sighed. Draco stroked his back for a second, then stepped away.

Harry opened his eyes. Draco’s face was flushed, but sometimes he seemed to enjoy holding off on the sex to torment both himself and Harry. “Do you think breaking with the Aurors is going to affect how we go back to the other dimension and lead the French Veela to Asovima?”

Harry managed to steady his own mind. “I don’t think so.” Draco’s eyelids drooped at the sound of his voice. Harry cleared his throat. “Kingsley doesn’t have anyone else who can make the journey successfully. And he sent you and _you_ weren’t an Auror.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t announce you’re retiring until it’s done, though.”

“Maybe not.”

“And what are you going to do when you’re free? I mean, we’ll have wonderful sex, of course, but as fun as it is, one can’t lie in bed and do that all day. Your arse would get sore.”

“So would your cock.” Harry smiled as Draco sucked in his own sharp breath and shrugged. “There are things I never had the opportunity to learn in Hogwarts that I’d like to study. Maybe healing. Or Ancient Runes. Or alchemy. That sounds fascinating.”

“And you don’t want to remake the Philosopher’s Stone?” Draco took a step towards him and glided his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry gave him a chaste peck on the cheek and ignored the erection he could feel poking him in the hip.

“No. I don’t want to live forever. Just long enough. And I have all the wealth I could ever need right here.”

Draco groaned and gathered Harry to him, and the time of teasing was over.

*

“We are here to discuss the matter of the mutual assault that Auror Nathan Klaine and Auror Harry Potter conducted on each other.”

Draco snarled under his breath. _Mutual. Right._ But he held his peace. Harry had asked him to, and he still didn’t ask for things as often as Draco liked to offer them. He watched as Harry stood up and inclined his head to indicate he was here. Klaine was between two other Aurors who had their hands on their wands.

Draco took a little comfort from that. At least he knew who the other _Aurors_ thought was responsible for this farce.

They were sitting in a mini-courtroom in the Ministry, with a small gallery and a circle of chairs on the floor for the people most involved. Harry had told Draco he could sit in the gallery, since it wasn’t reserved for Wizengamot members. Draco had looked at him calmly until he stopped being so stupid.

“Auror Klaine will begin his account first.”

Klaine did. He was practically spitting his words as he went on and on about his brother, who had apparently died on a mission involving Harry. Draco listened as calmly as possible for a few sentences until the word _basilisk_ popped up.

He spun around and stared at Harry. Harry stared back and mouthed, “What?”

“You didn’t tell me you survived a basilisk!”

Draco thought he managed to whisper that even if it was half-shouted, but Shacklebolt cast him an irritated glance, and Harry only stared at him as if he didn’t understand what was special about missions involving basilisks at all. Draco made an irritated motion at him. Harry made one back. Draco bit the inside of his cheek and focused on Klaine again, who was probably going to start lying any minute.

And soon, he and his mate would have a little talk about _keeping the truth of facing basilisks_ from your Veela.

“…And then I told them they would have to register. Which is true. Which I don’t even think they’ve done yet!”

“We are not currently talking about what Auror Potter and Veela Malfoy might have done outside this encounter, Auror Klaine. Would you please explain to me what happened after you pointed your wands at each other?”

Klaine had an unattractive face when he squinted, Draco thought. Then again, he kind of had an unattractive face at all times. Nothing compared to his _mate_. Draco smiled, and fanned his wing out across Harry’s shoulders. Harry stroked his feathers, but without moving his intense, impassive gaze from Klaine.

“I used a spell on him,” Klaine admitted. “But he used one back that hurt me a lot _worse_.”

“What spell did you intend to use on Auror Potter?”

“The Black Lightning Curse.”

That made several of the Aurors flinch, and someone let out a stifled swear word. Draco only managed to stay silent because he’d seen what had happened to the fool in front of him when the Black Lightning Curse got through Harry’s Shield Charm.

“ _Auror Klaine_.” Shacklebolt looked incredibly disapproving, and for a second, Draco couldn’t figure out why. Hadn’t he known what spell Klaine had used? Then he said, “That’s Dark Arts,” and Draco wanted to slap his hand over his face. Of course. His different upbringing and worldview were making it hard to see the obvious again.

“He should have died! My brother did! Potter should have died to save him, or not come back if he couldn’t save him!”

“What nonsense,” Draco muttered under his breath. Harry caught his hand and gave him a warning glance. Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but he sighed and nodded instead. Right. He’d sit here and listen to the nonsense, because it would make Harry look worse if he didn’t.

“What happened when you cast the curse?”

“It cut through Potter’s Shield Charm, but he had some other spell hiding behind it! He hurt me horribly!”

“What spell was that, Auror Potter?” Shacklebolt turned around and gave Harry a stern face, even though he must have known this already, too.

“The Cocoon Shield.”

More gasps, and someone else swore, but this time Draco thought it was in admiration, not disgust. It had _better_ be in admiration, he thought as he draped himself over Harry’s back and Harry moved him gently away again. It was a damn impressive spell.

“So the spell that ended up hitting Auror Klaine…”

“Was the released energy of the Black Lightning Curse. Yes, sir.”

“That means he used Dark Arts, too!” Klaine said immediately. “How can you not _see_ that?” He was staring at Shacklebolt and shaking his head a little as if he thought that the man was an idiot. “Are you just determined to protect him because he’s the Boy-Who-Lived and you want him to be an Auror but you don’t want _me_ to be an Auror?”

“If I was that determined to protect Auror Potter, you would be in Azkaban for using the Dark Arts, using them on a Veela’s mate, and provoking an attack.” Shacklebolt stood up and faced the circle of Aurors and a few people without the scarlet robes that Draco thought must be Ministry flunkies on some other level. “Now. You are asked to make a judgement. Should Auror Potter and Auror Klaine both be reinstated? Should Auror Potter? Should Auror Klaine? Or neither?”

“It seems perfectly obvious to _me_ ,” said a tall woman with short blonde hair that looked as if she’d taken shears to it instead of a neat Severing Charm. “Auror Klaine provoked the attack, in every way. Words and spell and anger. He’s not fit to be an Auror, Kingsley. What happens if he loses his temper with a suspect? Or someone not capable of defending themselves with the powerful magic that Auror Potter wielded? We can’t let someone like him remain in the Corps.”

“I agree.”

“I do, too. And I think the insults about needing to register his Veela were ill-mannered and likened Veela Malfoy to a dog.”

Klaine started to his feet and opened his mouth, but Shacklebolt hit him with a Silencing Charm before he could say anything. Then he went on looking back and forth between the others. “That says as much about Auror Klaine. But Auror Potter?”

“He can return if he promises not to cast that kind of magic at fellow Aurors anymore.” The tall woman grinned abruptly at Harry, her expression fierce. “But I _entirely_ approve it when you’re facing enemies of the Ministry, Auror Potter.”

Harry gave her a restrained smile in return. Draco suspected he was thinking of the times that _he’d_ been declared an enemy of the Ministry.

“Others?”

“I do find myself disappointed that he resorted to a violent response. But he was provoked, and the spells were defensive.”

“I agree. He should undergo some training for his temper. But I suspect that’s always been true, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Auror Potter.” Shacklebolt faced them both. “Would you be willing to undergo some training in meditation to help with the excesses of your anger?”

Harry’s smile dimmed. Draco suspected that one had to be a Veela to realize how much he didn’t mean it. “If that would help reassure people and mean that something like this never happens again, then I’d be more than willing.”

“I think it would. And it might help ease some of the concerns against welcoming you back into the Aurors.” Shacklebolt glanced at the Aurors, the judges or whatever they really were, again. “Wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.” The tall woman smiled again. “Don’t mistake me, Auror Potter. I do think it was mostly Auror Klaine’s fault. I have a cousin married to a Veela myself, so I know how it is. But I think that it would aid you in making sure that no one would be able to put even a shadow of blame on you again.”

“Thanks, Auror Ingeth. I know that I _definitely_ don’t want something like this happening to me again.”

 _And it won’t, because he’s not going to be an Auror for much longer._ But Draco was smart enough to keep that quiet, sitting and holding Harry while Shacklebolt lifted the Silencing Charm from Klaine. He immediately tried to shout again. Shacklebolt restored the Charm and rolled his eyes.

“Nathan Klaine, you are hereby stripped of your title of Auror. You will be remanded to Ministry custody for use of Dark Arts in the Ministry.” He glanced over at Harry and waited. Draco didn’t realize what for until Harry shook his head.

“I don’t want to press charges.”

Draco felt every feather on his wings trying to stand on end, but Harry turned and gave him a hard look. “ _No_ , I said.”

Draco considered it, then nodded. Thinking about it, he could see why Harry just wanted to be done with Klaine, and all the rest of them, although he didn’t realize what he was washing his hands of by implication yet.

“Thank you, Auror Potter,” said Shacklebolt, and then he signaled two of the Aurors who hadn’t spoken much forwards and they grabbed Klaine’s shoulders and marched him out of the room. Draco watched him go with savage satisfaction. He _could_ have had worse, but at least what he would get was bad enough.

“You are a fierce creature,” Harry told him in an undertone as they stood up and made their way towards the door of the mini-courtroom.

“Both parts of that are true.” Draco paused, because Harry’s face was pale and drawn, and the last thing he wanted to do was show Harry someone else who didn’t understand. “Listen, Harry. I know why you didn’t want to press charges. I would if it was up to me, but it’s probably good that it isn’t.”

Harry blinked at him. “You _do_ understand?”

“Of course I do.” Draco tucked his wings around Harry and held him close until he relaxed into the warmth. He hadn’t realized how much tension Harry was carrying around until that happened. “Think of this as something dreadful that had to happen before we could go home and enjoy each other again.”

“I’ll think of it that way, thank you, Draco.”

Draco smiled down at him and moved towards the far doors. There was still the interview with Shacklebolt to get through where Harry would tell him that he was quitting the Aurors. Draco knew _that_ wouldn’t be pleasant.

But it would be survivable. Everything would be, as long as they had each other.


	27. This Is It

“Mother.”

Harry came around the corner and nodded to Narcissa. He’d known she was coming, but it was still strange to see her smiling at him. “Hello. Draco said that you wanted to talk about our bonding.”

“Yes.” Narcissa was carrying a strange bundle in her hands that looked like a folded kite. It wasn’t until she spread it out on the dining room table that Harry realized it was a kind of hollow, fan-shaped box with bits of ribbon and fabric stuck in every hollow. “I know that you want to choose the time of your bonding. That’s fine. But we need to choose the colors and the decorations and the robes you’ll be wearing right now.”

“Why?”

“So the tailors have time to make them, of course, dear.” Narcissa reached out when Harry remained silent and touched the back of his hand. “You were thinking of walking into Madam Malkin’s and ordering bonding robes that day, weren’t you?”

“I’ve always got my clothes there.”

Narcissa’s face looked as if she had a very definite opinion, but she didn’t say it. “Madam Malkin, as skillful as she is, doesn’t make bonding robes,” she settled for. “She only makes a certain number of standard outfits, including Auror robes and school robes, and then adjusts the magic on them and their size when someone wants to buy them. Bonding robes are worn only by the wizards bonding. And there’s a special kind that needs to be made when someone is bonding with a Veela.”

“And for me, too.” Draco spread his wings. “There’s not that many tailors who know how to make comfortable clothes.”

Harry frowned at him. “You’ve been uncomfortable about cutting the holes in the shirts and robes you wear most of the time, and you never told me?”

Narcissa’s face lit up as if someone had started a candle burning behind her smile. Draco smiled, too, but it was more private and made Harry shiver a little. “They’ve done all right,” Draco said. “There was no reason for me to trouble you about it as long as that was true. But now that we’re beginning our bonded life, which is the permanent one, I want more comfortable robes.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t much care what he wore, himself; he was always adding protective charms to them, but he could do that with just about any cloth that made his Auror robes. He wasn’t going to be an Auror anymore, though, and he should start thinking more about his mate’s comfort, too. “All right. Then let’s take a look at these colors. As long as you understand that I don’t care much about the color of the decorations and I’m not going to wear any robes that restrict my movements.”

“You won’t have to. Part of the point of the bonding is that Veela and mate are coming to each other freely. That means you’ll have to be free of movements, too, to show that you can whirl around and kick and dance and so on.”

Harry relaxed. That sounded tolerable, and somewhat better than the fancy Auror robes he’d had to wear at Ministry functions were. He bent over the table and watched as Narcissa stretched out a few shimmering pieces of cloth.

*

Draco tapped the sky-blue ribbons that his mother had brought. Mother gave him a slightly chiding glance. Draco knew what it was for, and ignored it. She thought it was somewhat cliché for him to want to get married surrounded by the colors of the sky. They were traditional for a Veela bonding. She had pressed sapphire silk on him, and green, and white, and silver, and almost anything else before that sky-blue one.

Draco didn’t care. He liked the color more than the tradition.

“Very well,” Mother said, and turned back to Harry. He’d picked out green and blue swathes of fabric after some bored and annoyed sighs, and he was regarding them with a frown. “What is the matter?”

“I like the way these _feel_. But look at this.” Harry picked up the fabric and pulled. It went taut. “That looks like it’s going to be tight and scratchy and uncomfortable.”

“Tailors, Harry,” Draco said, because poor Mother simply looked baffled. It was Draco’s duty to hold back his laughter, and he did so. “They’ll make sure that the robes you want fit. That’s one reason you go to tailors to make them.”

“Oh.”

Draco turned back to Harry. He’d picked up the dark blue fabric and glanced at it. “Will it go with those ribbons you chose, Draco?” he asked. “I have no idea.”

“It’ll be fine.” Draco nodded at the green. “You don’t like that? It brings out your eyes.”

Harry scowled horribly enough that Draco would have cringed from him if _he_ was a criminal. “It’s like people need some feature to know me by. After the scar faded and people couldn’t comment on it as much anymore, they decided that they had to comment on my eyes. Talking constantly about how beautiful my eyes are and how I should bring them out and how they look like my mum’s and how they envy me for them—it’s so bloody _boring_. Some of them act like they’re about to steal them. It’s creepy.”

“So, you don’t like the green,” Draco said mildly.

Harry flushed. “Sorry. I don’t know why I went on about that.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Mother said, a faint smile on her face. Draco thought he knew why. Harry had relaxed enough to complain to them about a minor problem. It was an excellent sign that he would consider them family, soon. “You don’t have to wear it. I suppose that you won’t object to green decorations?”

“Unless one of the guests starts to natter on about my eyes. Permission to throw out anyone who does that?”

“It’s your bonding, that’s all the permission you need.” Draco paused. “You realized we haven’t discussed names?”

“Oh, right. I don’t mind who’s on the guest list as long as it includes the Weasleys and Hermione.”

“Not that, Harry. Whether you’ll take my name or not.”

“No.”

“Er.” Draco glanced at Mother. She only elevated her eyebrows a little, her face blank. “No discussion?”

“No.” Harry leaned back on the table, his arms folded and his face settling into those lines Draco hated, because it meant he was ready to fend off any argument no matter how reasonable. “I think we should keep our own names. We’re already well-known under them. I have no desire to stop being a Potter. I assume, from the way you made that little offer just now, that you have no desire to stop being a Malfoy. When we adopt children, I have no objection if you want to give them your surname only. But I’m not changing mine.”

Draco blinked a little, his mouth open. Mother was the one who stepped in, her smile bright but not touching her eyes. “If it’s being the last Potter that you object to, surely you would want to name at least one of the children Potter?”

“Maybe. We can discuss it when it becomes a reality.”

“But you won’t take the name Malfoy.”

“No.”

“Is it objectionable? You do not like it or want your name connected with it?”

Draco winced. Maybe Harry didn’t notice, but Mother was heading in the direction of an extremely courteous coercion.

“No. It’s not _my_ name, though. And Draco and I are going to bond. That’s not the same as somehow losing our ability to be different people.”

Mother was silent for long enough that Draco glanced at her, but he honestly couldn’t read her face. Then she smiled and nodded, and it was like the winter sun becoming the summer one. “Yes, all right. As long as you don’t imply that there’s something dishonorable about becoming a Malfoy, then I have no objection.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Malfoy, and as nice as you’re being to me, it’s not your objection that would matter. It’s Draco’s.”

Mother stared a little. Draco lifted his head and his wings. “And if I did have one?”

“The way you worded that tells me you don’t. But if you did, we would talk about it.”

Draco nodded, appeased and reassured. This would take some getting used to, especially since he thought Mother was probably still envisioning Harry as the one who would be lifted to new heights by bonding with Draco, but they would get used to it. They had already survived trials that hurt a lot more than this.

“Now,” Mother said, and took out a series of small glass ornaments that Draco blinked at it. He had mostly seen them hanging on the Christmas trees at the manor. He supposed there was no _reason_ they couldn’t also hang at the wedding, though. “If we’ve decided on blue ribbons, then I think white ornaments, the color of clouds, should be the choice here…”

*

Harry leaned on the railing of the balcony where he had started to tell Draco about the Dursleys, and stared out at the grass. The gardens looked as perfect as ever. Harry sighed as he watched a wind sway the tallest flowers, which were closed right now, because the sun had already set.

“Are you all right?”

“I was just thinking,” Harry said. “In a fortnight we’re going to be _bonded_. I never even thought about getting married for years, and now I’m going to be bonded.” He turned his head and looked Draco in the eye, knowing what he would think without the words. “I’m happy about that, honestly. But it’s overwhelming.”

“Why didn’t you think about getting married?”

“I’m extremely monogamous.”

“That should make you think more about it. Shouldn’t it?”

Draco sounded a little uncertain. Harry smiled and reached out to stroke his left wing. Draco made a soft chirping sound and snuggled closer to him. “No, I meant that I’m choosy, really. I would have married Ginny, I think, but neither one of us was ready. And Michael…he didn’t want to think about it. Neither did I. Having fun for a while seemed more important. I would have wanted to get married, but I would have had to _find_ someone first. Not a lot of people out there who are the combination of decent and honest and strong that I wanted, plus wouldn’t fly off and tell tales to the papers.”

Draco’s wings fluttered and tensed at the mention of Ginny, then the mention of Michael. Harry ignored that and kept talking. They were past the _petty_ jealousies by now, anyway.

“So I’m glad that you showed up and made the decision easy.” Harry leaned his head against Draco’s shoulder and sighed. “It would have been so hard to be ready for marriage someday and then spend years finding someone.”

Draco leaned harder on him. “You understand the difference between marriage and bonding?”

“I _did_ read those books you gave me, you know.”

“You know that there are—punishments if one of the bonding partners isn’t true.”

“You can say the word unfaithful, Draco. And stop growling. I’m never going to be like that. I never would have been even if I was only married. That’s not who I am.”

Draco stopped growling, finally. He nodded. “I’m grateful this happened because I love you and because it means that some of the same uncertainty is gone. But I’m also glad that no one else is ever going to get to know you the way I do.”

Harry rolled his eyes. _Possessive Veela._ If he limited it to a few comments in private, though, that would be fine.

“And you’re going to tell Kingsley that you want to resign from the Aurors tomorrow?”

“I’m not resigning _tomorrow._ ”

“I meant that you’d have the conversation with him tomorrow. Git.”

“Yeah.” Harry exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars. He suspected it was a delusion that they were brighter here in France. “I wanted to wait, but—there’s no reason to. He _ought_ to let us help with escorting the French Veela to Asovima. He certainly doesn’t have anyone else who can do it.”

“If he doesn’t let us help, I will personally fluff out my wings and look very displeased.”

Harry laughed. “You can talk to him some other time.”

“I’m coming with you tomorrow.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“ _Draco_.” Harry reached out and lightly gripped his wrist. “There’s no reason for you to do that. There’s no one there who’s going to harm me. Klaine isn’t an Auror anymore, he won’t have access. And Kingsley’s not my enemy.”

“And there isn’t someone there who’ll be measuring my time with a watch and thinking it a sign of jealousy if I crash through the fireplace too soon.” Draco draped his wing around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry relaxed with a grumble at the rush of warmth through him. It was hard to argue when Draco did that, which was why he did it. “Name me one reason I _shouldn’t_ be there.”

Harry thought about it, but in the end, he reckoned he would feel better if Draco went. Knowing he would have one person on his side in the office would make it easier to resist the pleas he thought Kingsley would probably make. “Okay. But if you make one threatening move towards Kingsley, I’ll kick you out of the Ministry myself.”

“I doubt I’ll have to threaten him. I’ll enjoy the look on his face too much.”

*

“But…you were cleared of any wrongdoing when we had that trial with Klaine.”

“I know, Kingsley. That’s not the reason that I decided to quit the Aurors. I want to do something else with my life.”

Shacklebolt still looked stunned. As if Harry had marched in and declared himself a Death Eater, Draco mused. He did have to wonder what the man thought Harry was going to do if he wasn’t an Auror. Just die?

But Shacklebolt asked something else. “Is this because you’re mated to a Veela? You’re afraid that some of the Aurors won’t be welcoming? I’m sure, Harry, that Nathan is a representative of a very small minority…”

“He didn’t even have much to do with Draco. It was more me surviving where his brother didn’t.” Harry sighed, and his face seemed to age a little. “No, really, this a decision I should have made a while ago and I’ve been putting off, Kingsley. It’s not _good_ for me anymore. I face death too much. I don’t take pleasure in what I’m doing. I was so focused on completing the mission when Draco and I were in the other dimension that I barely mourned the ones who died.” He paused. “Maybe that’s the real reason. I’m tired of seeing people die around me, of living where others don’t.”

Shacklebolt opened his mouth, then closed it slowly. “No one except people like Nathan blames you for that,” he said, but Draco could see the fear, flaring low and cold at the backs of his eyes, even if Harry couldn’t.

Draco wanted to snort. There was part of _Shacklebolt_ that feared Harry, maybe simply because he came back from missions that killed other Aurors. It was stupid, but it was another indication that it was time for Harry to leave the Aurors.

Harry smiled in a way that told Draco he’d seen that fear. “It’s the best decision all around, Kingsley. But I hope that you’ll still let me and Draco escort the French Veela into the new dimension and to Asovima, because we’re still the best ones for the job. I have my training and Draco has his instincts and his claws and his wings, even if we’re not Aurors.”

“The Veela might riot even if I wanted to take you off the mission,” Shacklebolt said. “They don’t trust most of my emissaries. It was a pain to get them to agree to what I did. They only agreed to the emigration because they’re desperate and they heard it would be a Veela and his bonded mate leading them.”

Draco grinned. “Then we’d better get on with our bonding,” he told Harry.

Shacklebolt stared. “I thought—you _were_ bonded. I mean, the way Harry talked about it.” He stopped, obviously not wanting to refer to the topic of sex.

“The formal bonding,” Draco said. “What we use instead of a wedding.” He pulled Harry to his feet and draped a wing across his shoulders. “It’ll make the Veela feel better. And besides, we want to.”

“Of course, of course.” Shacklebolt still looked vaguely creeped-out, but that was his own problem. Draco wasn’t going to worry about it. “Well. If you want to let me know your timeline for getting bonded, and I’ll let you know the timeline for taking those Veela to Asovima.”

“Of course,” Draco said, and inclined his head, and swept out with Harry next to him.

“You just wanted to force him to cope with the idea of us having sex,” Harry muttered once they were in the lift.

“I told you I would be entertained, not threatening.”

Harry only scowled for a moment before kissing him, so as far as Draco was concerned he’d won.


	28. The Sky So Blue

Thank you again for all the reviews!

_Chapter Twenty-Eight—The Sky So Blue_

“You still haven’t explained exactly why the formal bonding is so important.”

Draco rolled his eyes and tightened the loose tie around Harry’s throat. In the end, he had wanted to wear something so much like a school tie that Mother complained she couldn’t tell the difference between that and the kind of attire Harry would have worn as a Gryffindor student—except of course that this one was brilliant blue edged with white. “I’ve already told you. I lent you books that told you.”

Harry tensed for a second, as if he would move away, and then nodded. “You did. I’m just more nervous than I thought.”

“You know I love you. You know you love me. What could possibly—”

“Because I never actually was ready for marri—bonding _or_ marriage before. And it seems strange that less than a month ago I wasn’t even considering it, and now here I am, getting ready to do it.”

Draco clasped him close in his wings. “Less than a month ago, I hadn’t come into my Veela powers yet.”

“That’s true enough.” Harry leaned up to kiss him, and then turned to face the entrance of the small stone room where they stood, off a wing of the Manor reserved for wedding preparations. Harry had wanted to get married at Draco’s Home, but Draco had been adamant about keeping it as a place for just the two of them, and after a moment’s thought Harry had consented. “Can we stop smoothing and tying things and go out and get _bonded_? I have needs, you know.”

“Would one of those needs be to lie underneath me in our bed soon?”

“Yes. And to get the congratulations and dancing over with.”

Draco paused with one wing on Harry’s shoulder and one hand on the door, staring at him. “You _are_ nervous,” he realized.

“Of course I bloody well am.”

“But I _know_ you stood up in front of the press and Aurors every day and gave ridiculous speeches full of hope and goodwill—”

“Those didn’t really matter, Draco. People filled in the blanks themselves if I said something wrong or something that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. But this is _important_. We’re going to be bonded the rest of our lives, and I don’t want to mess it up for you.”

“For both of us,” Draco swore, leaning forwards and gently sliding one hand up into Harry’s hair at the back, ruffling it and sending pleasure through his fingers until Harry closed his eyes in sheer bliss. “I promise, Harry, everything will be fine. And if you want to skip everything but the first dance, we can do that.”

“Why can’t we _also_ skip the first dance?”

“It’s one of the parts of the ceremony that establishes the bond. We won’t have the full bond if we don’t do it.”

“Fine, just get used to crushed toes tonight,” Harry muttered, and then opened the door and stepped out before Draco could point out that everything would be fine and Harry’s dancing couldn’t possibly be that bad. Draco shook his head and followed him.

Outside, the Manor gardens had been trimmed and prepared with an inch of their lives. Draco saw that some of the young trees had been removed, to be replaced with the quartz and blue-tinted boulders that matched their bonding colors. Draco rolled his eyes, but inwardly. Mother would have changed the course of rivers for this if they let her.

The decorations that hung on the trees chimed softly, crystal birds and wings shaped like Veela wings. Ribbons floated in the air, blue and white and so many soft shades of green that Draco did give in and roll his eyes this time. Green had at one point been on the Black family coat-of-arms, and it was in the grass. Mother was convinced that every color present at their bonding had to echo some other.

“Ready, m—Harry?”

Draco bristled, all his feathers rising, but managed to smooth them back down when Harry gave him a pointed glance. He _did_ appreciate Weasley’s efforts to not call Harry “mate,” he reassured himself. He just didn’t think Weasley was doing enough if he still caught himself in occasional slips of the tongue.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and stepped forwards. He had his bonding robes, the shining blue ones, on now, but no cloak. Weasley was the one who ceremoniously draped a cloak of white over him, silk with Draco’s feathers woven into the edgings instead of lace.

Draco shivered as he watched. He was already wearing the heavy green cloak Mother had chosen, with slits for his wings, and he knew every step of this dance. But that didn’t change how magnificent Harry looked.

“Come on, then.”

Weasley was wise enough not to touch Harry as he led him through the gardens and down a path that the new boulders defined, towards the flat area at the far end where they would bond—or not.

Draco thrust the doubts from his mind and followed. Between one moment and the next a shadow made of light was walking next to him. Draco sneaked a glance sideways, even though he was supposed to be watching his mate at all times to make sure that he didn’t slip away. He had more confidence in Harry than that.

As he had thought, the shadow was his ancestor, Lucretia Malfoy, the last of his line to have full Veela heritage. She inclined her head to him, but pressed a finger against her lips and nodded to Harry. Draco nodded back and turned around again.

He felt a slight stripe of warmth down his back where Lucretia’s wing had pressed.

They arrived at the broad area of grass where the ceremony would take place, and there was, in fact, a small, winding brook there that hadn’t been there yesterday. Bright blue, of course. Draco didn’t roll his eyes, but only because Mother stood there and it would have hurt her feelings.

Mother’s smile widened when she saw the ghost of Lucretia next to him, and she curtsied in a way that made Draco wonder if she would ever do that for him or Father. In the meantime, Harry was moving forwards on his other side, trailed by Weasley. Weasley kept his arm hovering next to Harry’s instead of on it even when he turned around in front of Granger and the other Weasleys and Longbottom and the different guests who had been invited to their bonding.

The youngest Weasley wasn’t there, Draco saw with immense satisfaction. Neither was the Michael Corner bloke that Harry had dated for a time. Perhaps they knew their place.

“We are here to celebrate the bonding of our son, Draco Malfoy,” Mother said. She turned and looked expectantly to the right, and Father stepped forwards, his face perfectly neutral. He carried the giant silver cup with two handles that had been used in Malfoy bondings in ages past. “Who speaks for his mate?”

“We do.” Granger had moved up next to Weasley, but it was Weasley who spoke. Granger still gave Draco a vaguely unhappy glance now and then. At least Harry had assured Draco that she wouldn’t interfere in the bonding when she knew it made him happy. “Harry is our friend and has been for years. And he is the—mate of Draco Malfoy.”

_At least he only stumbled a little over the words,_ Draco thought, and turned to face Harry, his ancestor hovering to the side and a little behind him. The next part of the ceremony was Harry’s.

*

_Fuck, I’m going to forget all the words, I know it—_

But in the end, the memory of the fortnight they’d spent drilling came to his rescue. Harry stood and smoothed down his robes, and ignored the way they pulled at him. The tailor had done his best, but they still didn’t allow him the full range of movement that his Auror robes did.

“I come to ask that we bond,” he said, looking straight at Draco. Draco’s wings were rustling and twitching, and Harry knew the same impulse to reach over and touch his mate on the shoulder. Well, they would just have to wait. “I come to ask that we share our lives.”

“And why do you ask this?” inquired Narcissa Malfoy, her hands folded in front of her and her face as cool as her husband’s.

_Lucius still doesn’t entirely approve of me._

“Because I love him.” Harry smiled at Draco, and watched the way his wings tensed and fluttered again. There was still part of him that didn’t really believe everything that had happened, Harry thought. Or maybe he believed that Harry was going to change his mind and walk away even now. “Because I’m his mate. Because I want to be with my Veela for the rest of time.”

Draco lowered his head and crooned. Lucius looked an inch away from slapping his hand over his face. Luckily, he didn’t. Narcissa only paused as if to allow the interruption its own time to die, and then spoke half-sternly to Harry. “Is that true? Show that it’s true.”

Draco had warned him about this. Harry stepped forwards and wrapped his hands around Draco’s left wrist, concentrating as hard as he could. Wandless magic stirred in the bottom of his chest and shot up towards his heart. “ _Catena amoris,_ ” Harry breathed.

The magic hurt as it left his hands, but Draco never flinched. The magic, glittering silver-white and so brightly that it hurt to look at, formed a swift bracelet around Draco’s wrist. Draco bent his head and nudged it with his lips, and crooned again.

Harry stared at the bracelet. It had cooled down to the sheen of platinum, and it had both their names on it beneath a modified crest of the Potter coat of arms, a rearing lion with its paws clutching two pots. No one had told him it would do _that_.

Maybe that was why Narcissa and Draco hadn’t fought harder on the matter of changing his name, for that matter. No reason to when they would be marked as belonging to each other in another way.

Ron coughed and stepped forwards. He was reciting the words slowly, as though he was reading them from a parchment, but Harry didn’t care. He couldn’t look away from Draco’s beaming face anyway. “One claim is settled. The claim of the Veela remains to be, um, proclaimed.”

Harry didn’t blame Ron. He thought those words were awkward and clanging himself.

Draco sighed a little, as if he disagreed, but he didn’t get into it. Instead, he simply inclined his head and murmured, “I come to ask that we bond. I come to ask that we share our lives.”

“And why do you ask? Um, ask this.”

Draco rippled his wings as if he wanted to lift up and tear Ron’s face off, but Harry pressed his fingers into Draco’s wrist and frowned, and he calmed down at once, his eyes a clear grey and filled with adoration. Harry shivered a little as he realized that he’d get to see those eyes for the rest of his life. 

All he wanted. Draco was _his_. They were each other’s.

“Because I love him,” Draco said, and his voice was rich and slow. He reached out to push Harry’s fringe back from his forehead and trace the edge of the scar with one finger. “Because I’m his Veela. Because I want to be with my mate for the rest of time.”

“Is that true? Show that it’s true.”

Ron’s voice sounded steadier this time. Harry had to grin. He didn’t have Hermione’s doubts about the topic of their bonding—which was one reason why Ron and not Hermione was performing this part of the ceremony—but he would naturally want to see if Draco could really form that bracelet.

Draco reached out. His ancestor was moving behind him, draping her wings over his and closing her eyes. Harry braced himself for heat and pain, but he felt nothing except the cool touch of Draco’s fingers.

And then there was magic, and pleasure, and a wash of heat, but nothing worse than he would get when standing in front of a large fire. Harry opened his eyes in time to catch the swirling, sliding silver that had invaded Draco’s gaze, and he felt soft and liquid down to his bones.

In the end, he had a platinum bracelet around his wrist, as well, and it had the Malfoy coat of arms on it, a capital letter M with a delicate serpent rearing in front of it. Harry examined it with a smile, barely feeling it as Ron replaced the white cloak on his back with a blue one.

Then he leaned up and kissed Draco, a second before he thought Draco would have seized his shoulders and kissed him instead. Ron coughed, then clapped. Hermione and the others clapped, and George gave a loud whistle that made Harry blush. Behind Draco, he noticed that the ghostly ancestor bent her head to whisper into Draco’s ear before she vanished.

And Draco blushed. Harry could hardly wait to find out what for.

“It is done. They are bonded.”

The instant Narcissa made the declaration, Harry gasped. There was something else springing through him now, like but greater than the rush of heat Draco had made in him when he willed the bracelet into being. This was—

This was like standing on a mountain as bluebells grew around him. This was like looking up and seeing a dragon soaring overhead. This was like the moment when he had looked at Draco and realized that he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with him.

Draco shivered and spread his wings. He was shielding Harry from the sight of the others. Harry reached up and caressed his cheek, whispering, “Hey. We still have to do the first dance, you said.”

“I should have known better. Our bond was real and deep already. We don’t need to do the first dance.”

“But—”

“Are you actually arguing in _favor_ of dancing?”

Harry clapped his mouth shut and thought about that. “No.”

Draco nodded and looked up. “Thank you for coming, guests and family. Now we are departing. We should be back in time for the celebration in the Manor this evening.”

“Draco—”

“Harry—”

But the next minute they’d whirled away into Apparition, and Harry recognized the stone beneath his feet the minute they landed on the step of Draco’s Home. He leaned up and nipped along Draco’s throat, aiming for all the sensitive places. Draco was pressing him back against the door, looming over him, making him feel as though he was cocooned in warmth. 

“Good. Now come to bed.”

And Harry, although he could have walked into the house on his own and would have demanded to do so at any other time, let his Veela pick him up and carry him.

*

Harry was crying out beneath him.

Draco had slid inside him almost as soon as they reached the bedroom they liked to use. He didn’t need lube. Harry was ready for him, and had been since he slipped the bracelet with the Malfoy coat of arms around his wrist. A side-effect of the bonding magic, Draco knew.

He knew that with part of himself. A small part. The rest of him was overwhelmed with the blinding heat and tightness around him, and with the way that Harry’s eyes had dilated and his head was tossed-back and moving against the pillow. With the way his arse clenched around Draco and held him. With the way his hands were clawing at Draco’s shoulders and sometimes pulling his wings.

He knew that he didn’t belong anywhere else except here. And he thrust faster and faster, with Harry practically moaning himself to death beneath him.

“Harder! _Please_.”

Draco slowed his pace instead, because he wanted to, but made sure that he thrust as hard as Harry wanted. Harry clutched at him. Draco bent down and hissed into his ear, “You bonded with me in front of everyone. They’ll _know_ that we’re here having sex. How does it make you feel?”

“Wanted!”

Draco smiled and sped up his thrusts again. It seemed no matter what he did, Harry responded, and clenched, and reached for him. “What else?”

“Claimed! _Owned_.”

“Tell me that you like being claimed and owned.”

“Yes. I do. I n-never thought I would, but I d-do. Draco.” Harry almost whined the last word, and then drew his breath in hard and blurted out a full sentence. “You can make love to me after this, just _fuck_ me. Please!”

Draco’s body sped up without any input from him. The Veela wanted his mate. Draco wanted Harry. And he had them both.

It only took two more thrusts to make Harry come, without a single touch to his cock. Harry’s jaw was sagging, his eyes closed, his body straining for more and more pleasure as he spent himself on Draco’s chest.

Draco followed immediately, staring into his mate’s eyes as they opened again, feeling the bond between them thicken until the magic felt strangling. And then only pleasant, and he sagged over Harry never having felt so good in his life.

Harry gathered him close. Draco shut his eyes. He thought of his family knowing exactly what he was doing, including Father, and the Weasleys, and smiled.

Then he focused back on Harry. This was his mate. Harry made it all worth it.

“No one can ever take you from me now that we’re bonded,” he whispered.

Harry stroked his forehead as if he was the one who had the mystic scar. “Did you think I’d ever let them?” he murmured back. “Go to sleep. We have to be rested if we’re going to go to the bonding party later.”

Draco draped a wing over Harry’s chest and went to sleep at once, safe in the arms of his bonded mate.


	29. Swan Song

“Narcissa? What are you doing here?” Harry blinked as she swept past him and into the middle of the drawing room at Draco’s Home. The temptation to call her “Mrs. Malfoy” was still strong, but she looked so disappointed whenever he did that that he’d managed to overcome the temptation.

She turned around and smiled at him. “I can’t visit my son and son-in-law when I want?”

“Of course you’re welcome.” Harry glanced at the kitchen, where the house-elves had prepared breakfast that seemed to have more fruit and toast than usual. “Will you join me? Draco’s not up yet.”

“Yes, I will,” said Narcissa, and followed him in, sitting across from him with what seemed like impossible grace. “Dear, you should know that Lucius has pulled back his condemnation of Draco completely. He’s his son again and the heir to all the Malfoy properties.”

Harry broke off a piece of his buttered toast and popped it into his mouth to give himself time to think. “Well, that’s good,” he said finally, when he’d crunched his way through it and Narcissa had somehow eaten her own piece without dropping a single crumb. “But I think you have something else to say. Right?”

“Yes. He’s insistent on leaving the property to Draco and any children that you have, not to you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Honestly, he ought to have expected something like that from Lucius. “That doesn’t bother me.”

“Truly?” Narcissa lowered the slice of melon she’d lifted. “Even though you might find yourself without a home if Draco dies before you?”

“I’m absolutely sure that he’ll make his own will. And I have my own fortune and my own home.” Harry shuddered a little at the thought of going back to his flat alone, but then, he could hope that he didn’t outlive Draco. “Please don’t worry about it, Mrs. Mal—I mean, Narcissa. I always knew that Lucius was stubborn. If this is the worst he does to show that I wasn’t his first choice for Draco’s mate, I’ll be thankful.”

“Very well.” Narcissa ate three pieces of fruit and waited for Harry to finish his tea. “But not all of my money and properties passed to Lucius upon our marriage.”

“Er, I didn’t say it had?”

Narcissa stared steadily into his eyes. “I am going to take a portion of that money and make sure that my will bequeaths it to _you_.”

“You don’t need to do that. Really.” Harry felt the same uncomfortable itching on the back of his neck that he always did when someone tried to give him a gift because he’d destroyed Voldemort or something. “Like I said, I have plenty of money—”

“Think of it as a bonding gift.”

“You already got us a bonding gift.”

“One can never have too many.”

Harry gave up. From the look in Narcissa’s eyes, it was going to happen anyway, and he might as well go along with it. “All right. Thank you. And you won’t be upset if the money passes down to our children without me ever touching it, I hope.”

“Of course not. Once one gives a gift, one cannot call it back and pretend that it still belongs to the one who gave it.”

Harry smiled at her, and they chatted a bit about the bonding ceremony until Draco woke up. Harry turned his head towards the stairs even before he came down them. The new awareness of Draco pulsed like a soft kiss at the back of his mind. He was sure that he would have known if he’d left the house, stubbed his toe on the stairs, or awakened angry.

“The bond operating?”

“Yes. I like it,” Harry added, partially before Draco’s benefit, since he could tell that his mate had paused outside the kitchen and was listening.

“I should certainly hope you do.” Draco stepped into the kitchen and bent down to kiss the back of his neck. His wings shielded Harry’s neck and face. Harry rolled his eyes behind their shelter. If there was any person that Draco shouldn’t have to defend him from, it was his own mother, but Harry had learned better than to argue with a Veela’s protective instincts.

“You know it.” Harry returned the soft kiss and then spun his arm, an Auror move that plopped a surprised Veela into the chair beside him. “You didn’t eat much last night, and you haven’t eaten anything this morning. Breakfast time.”

“You see how he bullies me,” Draco told Narcissa sadly as he reached out and took a sausage from the plate of them in the middle of the table.

“I will also bully you if you don’t use a fork,” said Narcissa, with a smile that seemed distant and kind until you looked into her eyes.

Harry snickered a little as Draco picked up a fork. “You don’t have to worry about the influence that he’ll have on my manners, Narcissa. I think they’re already beyond repair.”

“You ate very elegantly at the ceremony,” Narcissa disagreed. “Not everyone present did, but you are not responsible for your friends.”

Harry sighed and let the insult he once would have blown up at go. It was true that even Hermione had given up on trying to reform the way Ron ate. “Did Draco tell you that I’ll be retiring from the Aurors?’

“He might have mentioned it.”

“I have to decide what I’ll do next. Right now, I think that sounds like Alchemy. It’s fascinating, and I never did get a chance to study it properly, what with having to rescue the Philosopher’s Stone from Voldemort.”

Narcissa didn’t flinch at the name, which raised Harry’s estimation of her. In fact, she leaned forwards and said, “Alchemy is indeed a fascinating study. I believe that they no longer have the classes at Hogwarts?”

“They only held them during certain years,” Draco said, his voice thick with disgust. “Not that many students wanted to take them.”

“It happens that I have a friend who is an Alchemist, and studied under Nicholas Flamel when he was still alive,” Narcissa said. “I would be happy to introduce you to her and see if she would take on a student.”

“I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You are _family_ now,” Narcissa said, with a glance that felt like crucifixion. “There is no length I will not go to for family, as both a Malfoy and a Black.”

“My mother never got a second child to spoil,” Draco murmured, leaning towards Harry. “Better hope that she’ll eventually switch her focus to the grandchildren. For now, just go along with it.”

 _She wants to help you._ Harry was still unused to thinking that of someone who wasn’t either Hermione or a Weasley, but he bit the inside of his cheek and managed to smile at Narcissa. “Thank you.”

*

Draco waited patiently in the middle of the field outside the Weasleys’ home. The letter Granger had sent had said to meet her here, and Draco was more than willing to do that. He knew Granger still had the most doubts about him and his relationship to Harry, or she would probably have been the one to act as a questioner at the bonding ceremony instead of Weasley.

Granger stepped out the back door of the ramshackle house and marched towards him. Draco watched her bushy hair whipping in the breeze, and walked forwards to meet her when he thought it was courteous.

“I still don’t have any idea why you chose Harry.”

 _Well, she’s direct enough._ Draco nudged a gnome away with his boot and considered her. “I believe that he’s told you all about how the temporary bond became a permanent one, except perhaps some of the details about the time we spent in bed.”

Granger turned a brilliant red, but muttered, “I don’t want you to think that I have any problem with gay people.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“You do?” She stared at him.

“No. I know that you have a problem with _me._ ”

Granger turned away from him, but not before Draco got to see the way her jaw clenched. He waited. Far, far better to have this confrontation away from Harry, who would have been hurt to see them screaming at each other.

Or rather, his friend screaming at his mate. Draco didn’t intend to raise his voice. He was _always_ calm, cool, and collected, and just because Granger might try his patience didn’t mean she would cause him to lose it.

“It’s too _soon_ ,” Granger said. “Harry went all these years without even saying that he wanted to marry someone, and then he goes to another dimension with you, comes back, and bonds with you inside a month. It’s too fast.”

“Why does that matter to you, Granger?”

“Because bonds that form that fast tend to _break_.” Granger whirled back to face him. “People think they’re in love, and they’re really in lust, and they find out that they can’t live together even though they thought they could! I don’t want to see Harry get his heart broken. Statistics say—”

“Your statistics don’t apply to me and Harry, Granger. I’m a Veela. We can’t abandon our mates.”

“That doesn’t mean Harry can’t get his heart broken! Or stay for you even though his heart isn’t in it and he’d like to go and find someone else. He’s that noble and self-sacrificing. He’d do it.”

Draco smiled. Her words would have made him tremble and doubt as recently as a few days ago, but now he could feel Harry’s heart and emotions at all times through the bond. Even if Harry had wanted to lie to Draco, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Draco shook his head a little and said patiently, “You ought to know better. Harry would have refused and maintained his good ‘standards’ if he didn’t feel attracted to me. And he would have insisted that I transfer the bond to someone else if he didn’t feel that he loved me in return.”

“What do you mean by standards?”

“He kept insisting that we shouldn’t really have sex when we were in the other dimension. That we shouldn’t make the bond permanent. And he worried that _he_ was the one who wasn’t worthy of _me_.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m glad that we agree on something, Granger.”

Granger folded her arms. “I don’t know that I can ever trust you. Or stop watching to see what happens in case Harry _does_ start to feel unhappy and trapped.”

“You can watch all you want.” Draco moved a step forwards and held up his hand so that she could see claws had replaced his fingernails. “You can feel anything you want. But if you ever say anything to Harry of what you’re thinking and try to make him doubt me, then know this. Our bond is deep enough that he’d abandon you to keep me.”

Granger stared at him with stricken eyes. “That would be _cruel_ of you.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I would never try to make him choose between us. But if you did it, I know whom his heart would choose.”

Granger licked her lips. Then she said bitterly, “Am I just supposed to trust that you have Harry’s best interests at heart and that you’re never going to hurt him?”

“Yes. The same way you trusted that with the other people he dated.”

“I never thought Ginny or Michael would hurt him!”

“I hope to one day earn the same level of trust,” Draco said, and barely kept from rolling his eyes. “Look, I want to get back to Harry, and you’ll have to get used to me sooner or later. Can we finish this conversation now?”

“Not until I get some assurance that you won’t hurt Harry.”

“You have more than you had with either Weasley’s sister or Corner, if you would only see it,” Draco said, and turned his hand so that his claws lay over his own heart. “Hurting him is hurting myself. The Veela won’t be happy unless his mate is. I can’t leave him, Granger. I love him. I would never break his heart willingly. If something happens that’s beyond my control and unimaginable right now, then your vigilance isn’t going to prevent it.”

Granger stood there, biting her lip, and looked very young. She didn’t like it when things got out of her control, Draco reckoned. And this was incredibly and absolutely out of her control. The bond had formed away from her purview, and Harry had insisted on maintaining it and bonding with Draco despite all her warnings.

“All right,” she finally said, on an exhale. “If you promise to guard his own heart as best you can.”

“I already promised that at the bonding.” Draco had sympathy for her, but he still wasn’t going to indulge her paranoia.

“Fine, you’re right.” Granger glanced away from him. “Look, Malfoy, I’m probably never going to be comfortable with you.”

“I suspect that as long as we both still think that we haven’t changed since Hogwarts, neither of us will be,” Draco said, and smiled when she looked at him. “I apologize for my actions then, by the way.”

“You’re only apologizing because of Harry!”

“And you’re only demanding it because of Harry.” Draco shook his head. “I’m not a creature of pure disinterested altruism, Granger. I never will be. Accept my apology or not. But don’t question my motives this way. You won’t like the answers anyway.”

Granger nibbled her lip again. Then she nodded. “I think that you at least _think_ you’re going to try and make Harry happy. I suppose that’s the best I can accept for now.”

 _And I can accept that you’re self-righteous and rely on statistics too much._ But Draco didn’t snap as much as he would have at someone else like this. He gave her a nice smile and turned back to fly to the Manor, whose Floo he would use to connect to Draco’s Home.

He had spent enough time away from his mate.

*

“Ready?”

Harry smiled at Draco. He had a backpack full of alchemical books on his shoulders. Tamara Winters, the mentor Narcissa had introduced him to, had been aghast at how much he needed to study and had loaded him down, but Harry didn’t care. He was looking forward to reading except during the times when he was actually helping Veela settle into Asovima and making love with Draco. “If you are.”

Draco nodded and turned towards the suspicious, watching French Veela. He spoke to them in French. Their strained expressions relaxed, and Harry noticed that some of them were watching with him curiosity now. They could seemingly feel the bond between him and Draco. Harry smiled and waved at them.

Draco tore open the portal with his own magic, instead of relying on the Ministry, this time. It crackled in blue lines across the air that seemed to halve the sky and fall away with it, until Harry was looking at a portal full of a different shade of blue. Then it became the glowing ground of that other dimension.

The other dimension that was home to the Veela, but also their home, in a way, since it was the place where their bond had first come to life.

Draco caught his eye and smiled.

As the distance filled with soaring towers and silvery wings, and the French Veela began to spill through the portal, Harry smiled back, and stepped forwards to take Draco’s hand.

Draco bent down towards him as the Veela stragglers passed them. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Harry repeated, and felt their bond thrum with contentment. He leaned up to kiss Draco, and Draco folded his wings around them so no one could see.

Harry didn’t mind that. He didn’t mind anything about this. He _loved_ everything about this.

And he followed Draco through the portal, as he would follow him into the next phase of their lives.

**The End.**


End file.
